


Resonance

by Asreoniplier (AsreonInfusion)



Series: Counterbalance [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kink Negotiation, Knifeplay, M/M, Morning Sex, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-10-16 05:52:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 51,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17543942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsreonInfusion/pseuds/Asreoniplier
Summary: It's been months since you first ran into Dark and Anti, but you finally get the chance to see them again thanks to an upcoming event run by Mark. Not just see them again - spend the entire weekend together. Which is plenty of time for more dates, more hanging out, and making good on the promises Anti and Dark made last time about getting into some kinky shit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t stay away forever. I just had so much fun in this dumb fluffy universe that I had to come back to it eventually. x3 This part is even longer than the last; long enough that I’ve had to divide it up into two separate chapters just so it’s not totally unmanageable, lol. Essentially they have two whole days together this time, and each day (approximately) gets its own chapter. 
> 
> Dear fucking god I have a lot of notes for this. Sorry for how long this is gonna be…
> 
>  **NOTE #1:** It was mentioned in Counterbalance about knifeplay being a thing Anti was into and that that was a thing they wanted to try. Well, they’re actually doing it this time. Things start getting a fair bit kinkier from here on in, be warned!! It’s still done in a relatively healthy-ish, chill way though. At least, they’re trying. It’s as healthy as you can hope for when you’re dealing with a pair of goddamn demons. xp 
> 
> **NOTE #2:** Things also get a lot more specific, and that’s kind of an issue with the 2nd person POV. There’s an entire long conversation discussing kinks and what the protagonist is into and willing to try – that’s going to be something wildly variable and everyone is going to have different opinions on different things, it was straight-up impossible to write that in a way that’s going to be generic enough to fit every reader. (And if I did try to make it generic, it’d just feel like it was lacking a lot of personality and be rather bland? So I didn’t try at all, in the end. I’m afraid the protagonist already has Opinions.)
> 
> Now, personally, that doesn’t bother me, because I can never read reader-insert stories as if they were actually me anyway. I always just have some kind of general proxy character in my head that _maybe_ vaguely resembles me if I feel like it, but there’s always still a distinct separation, so if the reader character does something I don’t agree with or wouldn’t do myself that’s no big deal.
> 
> However, if you _do_ get more immersed in these things and it really throws you out of the story if you don’t agree with the character, this is a heads up that that’s almost inevitably going to be an issue in at least that section of the fic. Hopefully you can still enjoy it anyway!!
> 
>  **NOTE #3:** If you are worried about your opinions not meshing with the protagonist’s, or just the kink stuff in general (there’s a few things that I haven’t tagged because it is just a passing mention, but it still comes up briefly), there’s more spoilery notes at the bottom of the fic you can skip to and check out to make sure you’re cool with everything!
> 
>  **NOTE #4:** The places in this chapter are based on real locations! I actually went out to the restaurant in question for research purposes. xD And I have photos. If you’re a very visual reader and that sort of thing interests you, [here’s a link to a post I made on Tumblr with the details about that](https://asreoniplier.tumblr.com/post/182305490882/locations-post). It’s really not necessary for the story - I didn’t even namedrop the places - just a fun little bit of trivia. ^^

You’re nervous. You don’t even know why. Excitement, anticipation; that makes a lot more sense, and you’re certainly feeling those too. But nerves?

The too-long bus journey gave you more time to think than you wanted, that’s all. At first it was just the usual worrying that you hadn’t packed everything; tickets, the fanciest dress you own, all the usual underwear, pyjamas, toiletries. But reassured of that, your mind wandered into deeper concerns.

What if all of this was a mistake? Going to see Dark and Anti again? Technically, you’d only met them the once before. And had been on one date, then had sex. Utterly amazing sex, in your opinion, but that was the still extent of your interactions. You  _had_  kept in contact, but it was only in sporadic text messages. What if they’d changed their minds and didn’t actually want you around anymore?

Then they would have  _told_  you, you reminded yourself. They were, at the end of the day, not exactly human. A pair of demons weren’t going to play nice with your feelings; if they didn’t want you around, they would’ve told you to fuck off in no uncertain terms.

That thought was oddly reassuring, in a slightly messed up way.

Your stomach is still doing weird little flips as you pull up to the L.A. bus depot. You grab your bags and transfer over to the local route; it’s just the one change, and then less than quarter of an hour direct to the doorstep of the hotel.

Where Dark and Anti would be.

You’d been planning to go anyway. It wasn’t  _just_  Dark and Anti; it was a whole huge event. An actual in-person charity gala. When Mark had promised a massive charity event at the end of the year, he really had not been speaking hyperbolically.

The second it had been announced, you’d pounced on one of the tickets. There was to be an actual  _ball_ ; dancing, fancy food, charity auctions, special guests, and Mark doing a performance of his own of some of his song covers or such like. Plus some surprises, which – knowing Mark – could be just about goddamn anything.

And Dark. He hadn’t given you the details, but it seemed  _Dark_  was to have a role to play in the proceedings too.

So he was going to be there, and Anti was coming along as well – just because he tended to spend a lot of time with Dark, you presumed – and they had asked if you’d like to spend the weekend together while you were all in town.

Yes. God, yes, you’d like that.

Only now your stomach is fluttering in a mix of anticipation and want and nerves. The nerves don’t abate at all when your stop comes up and you find your way to the hotel.

You are  _so_  far out of your depth. That’s your first thought as you step into the lobby, into a wide, opulent corridor of marble and gold-gilt patterned ceilings with chandeliers and carved columns, like something out of an old English manor.

Feeling out of place, you clutch at your paperwork hard enough to crumple the edges. A ticket for the charity gala, and a copy of the room booking Dark had sent to you.

You talk your way through the typical hotel sign-in script in a distracted haze. Dark, it seems, has already taken the room, but left instructions for a second room key to be left and provided for you.

 _‘I’ve just arrived, shall I just head up?’_  you quickly type and fire off the message from your phone.

There’s no immediate response – there usually isn’t, you’re used to that – but you don’t want to loiter too long in the lobby either. You thank the receptionist and pick up your bags, idling slowly along the corridor in the general direction of the room. It  _is_ impressive, the hotel. Beautiful. Elegant. Rich, but not tastelessly so.

You still feel a little underdressed – jeans don’t seem quite appropriate, though at least you’d chosen the nice, crisp, non-ripped pair for today – but it’s not so bad. There are others meandering through who look like simple tourists too, and there will be plenty of others like you tomorrow for the event. You get the feeling Anti would pull a face at the whole affair, but Dark must be in his element.

Speaking of—Dark is here. You can feel his presence in the way the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, in the little shiver that runs down your spine and the faint ringing in your ears.

He’s doing that on purpose; letting you sense him from a distance so as not to startle you. You turn to find him behind you, waiting in the overhang of an archway on the other side of the corridor. His lips curl up into a small smile as your eyes meet.

This was the moment you’d been worrying about. What do you even say to them, finally seeing them in person again after all these months?

“Hi,” seems redundant and childish. But it’s all you have, and you find yourself blurting it helplessly as you walk across to join him.

“Hello,” Dark greets in return, the tone of it low and smooth. Almost a purr, and  _damn_ , you’d forgotten just how much his voice could affect you, hearing it in person like that. His smile turns to more of a smirk. “Did you miss me?”

You can’t help but grin in return, the recognition instant. “I missed you,” you reply, parroting the words from that video, Dark’s first major appearance, “very much.”

As much as you’re just playing along with the reference, it isn’t a lie in the slightest. But saying it this way is far less daunting than admitting it for real. Dark doesn’t need to know exactly how much you missed him and Anti.

Because,  _god_. You missed them. And that’s a whole complicated mess, because this really wasn’t something you should get feelings involved in. You were already more attached to them than was wise. It… worried you sometimes.

But all your concerns melt away as Dark moves in to wrap one arm around your waist, his other hand gently tilting your head back so he can press his lips against yours. Just briefly, a greeting kiss and nothing more, but there’s enough heat behind it to assure you that Dark hasn’t forgotten about what went down during your last encounter.

You’re grinning again when the two of you part. Probably a stupid, infatuated smile, but you don’t mind. Dark picks up one of your bags, and you take the other and fall into stride beside him as he starts to lead you back to the room you’ll be sharing.

“So, what’s the plan?” you ask. Tomorrow is the gala – that’ll take up most of the evening. But there’s still tonight, and then during the day prior to the start of the event.

Dark gives a hum of consideration. “Have you eaten yet?”

It’s just about bordering on dinnertime, inching into evening by now, but you haven’t eaten and shake your head in response to the question. That probably means another restaurant date is on the cards, then.

“Good,” he says. “I have a meeting with Mark later to discuss my role in this little farce of his, but that will not be until late.”

Makes sense. You remember what Dark said last time, about it being better to avoid people realising that he and Mark existed as separate entities. So they’d have to be discreet about meetings.

Although you can’t help but wonder. “What  _is_  your role? If you’re allowed to say.”

Dark huffs and gives his neck a small crack as he presses the button to call the elevator. “Hardly worth the time. An appearance on stage, a few lines. Nothing more.”

“And…you agreed to that?”

Dark’s smile shows too many teeth all of a sudden, the light in his eyes glowing unsettlingly. “A few little tricks, for the price I demanded in return? Yes, I agreed. Or, rather,  _Mark_  agreed.” And Dark makes it sound very much like something Mark would come to regret.

Sometimes you forgot who – or what – exactly you were dealing with. It sends a shudder through you – a little bit fear, a little bit thrill at the reminder of how powerful and utterly devastating Dark has the potential to be.

You don’t ask any more questions on the matter.

Not that you would have had the chance to; the elevator deposits you at your floor, and the room is just a few doors down. Dark swipes the keycard to allow you in.

“Took ye long enough,” is the first thing you hear. You’ve barely taken a few steps into the room before you end up dropping your bag with a small yelp of surprise; Anti doesn’t give you the courtesy of allowing you to notice him first, or even just walking over like a normal person. There’s just a crackle of static and then he’s  _there_ , slinging an affectionate arm around your shoulders and ruffling your hair.

“Hey!” you protest mildly, but gladly allow the contact. “I’m here exactly when I said I would be, don’t give me that ‘long enough’ bullshit.”

Dark picks up your bag for you and ushers you further into the room so he can at least close the door behind you. “Anti is impatient,” he notes dryly.

That is kind of flattering, though. That he was impatient to see you again, just like you were impatient to see them.

Anti scoffs at being called out on his eagerness. “You spent at least twenty minutes longer than usual trying to get your eyeliner fuckin’ immaculate or somethin’,” he tosses back.

You laugh in delight. “Wait, that’s not just… like that? It’s actually eyeliner?”

“It  _is_  somewhat natural, but the discolouration’s appearance can be improved by the judicious application of some minor cosmetic enhancements,” Dark defends, shooting a hard glare at Anti. “Perhaps  _you_  should make some effort to not look like a complete trash animal at some point.”

“You fuckin’ love my trash and you know it,” Anti says. He throws himself onto the bed and sprawls across it, hands behind his head and a wicked light in his eyes.

God, you forgot how much you missed them snarking at each other as well. You’re pretty sure by this point it’s just their way of flirting.

You can’t resist throwing in some teasing of your own. “Boys, boys. You’re both pretty.” You pause and rethink your words. “Well, maybe not pretty… more like gorgeous as fuck, but.”

“Hah. Nice save, doll.”

Anti sits back up with an amused, wry grin and takes your hips in his hands, pulling you towards the bed until your knees hit the edge of it. Staring down at him like that, held loosely between his legs and only a few inches between you, reminds you just how damn gorgeous he is. Even with his unnatural eyes, lurid green glowing against black sclera, and inhumanly sharp teeth, it only increases his appeal. And maybe his style is more informal than Dark’s, but you wouldn’t want to change a damn thing. The ripped skinny jeans and heavy boots look fantastic on him; a suit wouldn’t cling to Anti’s thighs or show off his hips so deliciously.

Then again, Anti in a suit…

“Oh. Hey. Are you going to be coming to the gala?”

Anti wrinkles his nose. “Naw. Fancy-ass bullshit ain’t my scene.”

“That’s a shame. I would’ve liked to see you all dressed up.”

He narrows his eyes. “Why? Are you calling me a trash animal too?”

You don’t get a chance to deny such an accusation; Anti lifts you by the waist and flings you onto the bed. “No!” you shriek, laughing.  “No, I think you’re hot as hell!”

He leans over you, pinning you down with hands on either side of your shoulders. It would have been intimidating, if the grin on his face hadn’t made it clear he was only playing. “But you wanna see me ‘dressed up’,” he says, scornfully emphasising the words.

You shrug as best you can in your current predicament. It’s incredibly tempting to squirm, but you’re trying to avoid doing anything to fluster yourself even further – because  _hello_  being pinned down by Anti is making your face start to feel heated already – and that would definitely not help. “It’s just… different, and different is fun. I’d like to see Dark in casual clothes too; works both ways.”

“Would you now?” Dark comments, sounding mildly interested in the conversation now that he’s been brought into it.

“Mm. Maybe.”

The suit is still incredibly hot on him though. Gorgeously tailored in a way that hints just right at the build beneath. You wouldn’t complain if he wanted to keep wearing it.

“Unfortunate. I didn’t pack anything you would consider ‘casual’.”

“You could get anything you wanted in a heartbeat, though; you have more than enough power to just pull shit from the void or whatever it is you do,” you point out.

Dark smiles at you. “But I’m not going to.”

You snort a laugh. “Fine. Be like that.”

Anti lets you up now the topic seems to have come to a close, and you rearrange yourself somewhat more presentably on the bed. Anti’s hand somehow manages to find its way around your waist again in the process, though.

“What about you?” Dark asks smoothly.

“Hm?”

“What are  _you_  intending to wear to the gala?”

“Oh. Right. I have a dress.”

“Well, that certainly narrows down the options,” Dark says dryly.

“Shut up,” you inform him, teasing in return. You slip out of Anti’s grip and go for your bag. Come to think of it, you should get your dress out anyway. Give it a day to uncrumple before you have to wear it.

It was a gem of a thrift store find; an honest-to-god ballgown, ruffled layers reaching to the floor and a low, off-the-shoulder neckline, plus a corset to couple with it.

Dark only nods, but his eyes are alight with approval. “You’ll look lovely,” he says, then adds regretfully, “it’s a shame I won’t get to dance with you on the night.”

Oh. You try your best to conceal the way your heart sinks. “You won’t?”

Dark chuckles. “At a gala run by Mark? I believe it’s best I don’t show my face where not absolutely necessary.”

That is… entirely understandable now you think about it. Human glamour or not wouldn’t make a difference in this case; looking like Mark would probably cause equally, if not more, chaos if he turned up amongst a gathering of fans like that.

“But perhaps tonight we could go and take an early look at the ballroom,” he offers.

“Alright. That would be nice, actually.”

You’re not exactly the most confident dancer – you’d watched a few tutorial videos online beforehand, knowing that it would be useful for the event, but you hadn’t exactly had a partner to practice with – so being able to dance with Dark without the pressure of an audience might even be preferable. Or, no audience other than Anti. You hoped?

You turn back to Anti; he’s flipped onto his front on the bed now, chin resting on his fist as he watches the two of you. “You gonna come dance too?” you ask him. “Just us?”

“Pfft. Ye think I know any of that kinda ballroom crap?”

“You know I’d be happy to teach you,” Dark says.

“You know I don’t give enough of a shit to learn.”

You hang your dress up over the back of the room’s armchair, then go and poke Anti lightly in his side. “Come with us anyway.”

Anti reaches out; you initially think he’s just going to bat your hand away, but instead he grips your wrist and abruptly pulls you across to him. He sits up, and you find yourself practically in his lap all of a sudden.

“Why? You wanna see  _my_  style of dancing?” he purrs, suggestively rolling his hips up against you just a little. It’s the sort of move that makes you think of dark, smoky clubs with strobe light cutting through the fog, dirty electro beats, and Anti grabbing your hips and pressing himself up against you while you grind your bodies together into time to the pounding music that throbs through you like a heartbeat.

Your breath catches a little in your throat. “Also acceptable,” you say, swallowing a groan.

Anti grins. “That’s what I thought.”

“Be as that may,” Dark interrupts, clearing his throat. He seems amused by your antics though. “We have a reservation for dinner in a little over half an hour. Any… ‘dancing’ may have to wait for a later time.”

“Shame,” Anti mumbles against your neck, reluctantly letting you go.

You’re equally as reluctant to leave, but you swing your legs over and sit on the side of the bed anyway. “When do we need to leave? Is it far?”

“Not at all. Barely across the road. But I thought it best to give sufficient warning.”

Anti groans. “Is it some fancy shithole again?”

“No, Anti, your jeans will be adequate. It’s simply a rooftop restaurant that overlooks the hotel and the square outside.”

“Sounds good,” you interject before Anti can complain further. Knowing Dark, and despite what he may say, you suspect the restaurant must be at least relatively high end. You’re tempted to stay in your jeans as well, in solidarity with Anti, but you already had other plans.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower before we head out, then. I’m all gross from travelling,” you inform them.

It’s not exactly that you meant or wanted to make a big deal of trying to look nice for them, but—well, you kind of do. You packed a casual evening dress for tonight; a slim black A-line thing that zips up the front and goes down to around mid-thigh. You might as well wear it.

You don’t normally take overly long to get ready for going out, but in this situation you suddenly relate with Dark and his taking twenty minutes on his eyeliner.

You shower and dress; you’d deliberated at the time whether or not you should bring your best lingerie – was that a little too presumptuous? – but you’re glad now you did. After all, this  _was_ , technically, still just a friends with benefits arrangement, if that. Of course sex was going to be on the cards.

Short black dress, lacy panties, garters and fishnet thigh-highs, paired with combat boots because a) fuck heels, and b)  _aesthetic_. But you were making an effort. For them.

They seemed to appreciate it.

“Daaang,” Anti whistles. “I forgot just how cute ye were.”

He’s the one sitting on the edge of the bed now, and you laugh as he pulls you back in against him. He runs his hands up your thighs, beneath your dress, until he reaches the garter straps. Anti pings one of them and narrows his eyes at you. “ _Very_  cute.”

You’re simultaneously flustered but highly flattered.

Dark guides you away from Anti’s wandering hands with an arm of his own around your waist. “Delectable,” he agrees. “But shall we get going?”

It’s still a tiny bit on the early side – you didn’t take  _that_  long to get ready – but Anti and Dark are both ready to go as they are, and there’s no reason to wait. Dark said it wasn’t far, but you may as well take your time meandering over.

You leave through a different entrance on the other side of the hotel, through what had been the original lobby once and is still gorgeously dramatic with high ceilings and a sweeping staircase leading to an elegant collection of tables and plush chairs.

The street outside is far less impressive in comparison. You step out into downtown L.A., and it’s back to grey, soulless concrete. You wish you’d thought to wear a jacket more substantial than the thin shrug you have on now; it’s late enough in the year that even L.A. has a crisp chill in the air after dark. And late enough that there are even some decorations starting to go up in the park, twinkling lights and festive gazebos suggesting some kind of event there as well.

Dark was certainly correct about the restaurant not being far; it’s essentially just on the adjacent corner of the square. For a moment you’re confused – he seems to be leading you into another hotel or apartment complex. But then you enter the elevator and notice the name of the restaurant emblazoned next to the button for the top floor, and you remember him mentioning it was a rooftop location.

Anti’s rolling his eyes on your other side, fingers twitching. Despite Dark’s assurances that it wasn’t overly fancy, the entrance and elevator are already hinting otherwise.

You move closer, letting your shoulder brush against his. “This is nice and all, but next date d’you fancy just staying in and getting pizza or something? Netflix and chill?”

The offer makes Anti snort. He doesn’t answer though; the doors open to your destination before he has the chance. There’s another elevator that takes you two floors further to the very top, and you finally step out into the restaurant proper.

There’s a long bar to the left, and an eclectic selection of traditional dining tables amongst couches with coffee tables scattered throughout the room. High windows and patio doors take up the most of the two walls to the front and right, leading out onto a balcony filled with sprawling greenery and more tables, then views of the city beyond.

Okay. That is actually… really nice.

You’re not a huge fan of L.A., honestly, or certainly not this downtown area. It’s like any city, you guess; too much in the way of dull, grimy buildings and construction works and concrete grunge. But in the evening, dark already at this time of year, and with the city lights glittering all around you like the interior of a galaxy, it seems almost… magical.

Magical? Really?

You’re being a goddamn sap about it, already embarrassed by your own thoughts. Damnit. It’s just because going out on a date with Dark and Anti again makes your heart swell. Being here with them… it makes you happy. Actually, genuinely happy. Far happier than it should.

God, you need to get a grip.

“You’re quiet,” Dark notes once you’ve sat down and settled yourselves at a round, glass patio table at the edge of the balcony, nestled back into some of the greenery. Dark can sound so genuinely concerned like this; not pushing, just allowing you the space to talk if you want to.

He’s  _nice_. He’s been so goddamn nice to you through all of this and, again, it’s growing more and more difficult to reconcile the way that he acts towards you compared to what you know he’s capable of. What if an act is all it is? It seems too good to be true, and part of you is waiting for everything to self-destruct around you.

You shake your head. “Just thinking. Dumb anxious shit. Distract me?”

“Hm. Well, first distraction; do you fancy a cocktail?”

Anti perks up at that, snatching the drinks menu that Dark had originally been offering to you. “That’s more like it,” he says emphatically. You can’t help but giggle a little, and Anti directs a half-hearted glare your way. “Hey. The sweet free food and alcohol is the only reason I put up with this prick dragging me out to these smarmy-ass restaurants.”

“Sounds reasonable,” you say, covering your smile with your hand.

“Dark just likes showing off with this shit, like a fuckin’ overcompensating peacock or something. Believe me, the appeal wears off real quick.”

“I hardly think he’s  _overcompensating_ … I’ve already tapped that, you realise. And so have you.”

Anti lets out an inelegant snort. “Alright, I’ll give ye that one. More like showing off just how big his dick is, then.”

“You two do realise I’m right here?” Dark says, eyebrow quirked.

You laugh, and Dark lightly pinches your thigh as a reminder to behave. You grin at him.

“To the original point. Cocktails?”

“Fuck yeah,” Anti agrees, before rattling off about three different selections from the menu. You make a more conservative request of just one drink, for the time being.

With drinks and food ordered, the conversation turns back to you. How you’ve been, what you’ve been up to. You’d mentioned a few projects and things you’d been working on during some of your text conversations; you’re both surprised and flattered to find they remember and ask about that.

You feel bad that the topics always seem to centre so much on you. You care about them too, you want to know how their lives are going. But even when you try to ask, they always deflect your questions. The sort of things they do aren’t privy for human ears, you suppose, and there’s a good probability that you don’t really want to know. Still. As flattering as the attention is, you wish they could share more of themselves. Understandable why they can’t, or wouldn’t want to, but…

The arrival of your food distracts you. Of course, it should have been obvious by this point that Dark would never take you anywhere that didn’t meet his standards, but you’re still pleasantly surprised. The food is goddamn  _good_.

“Mm, I forgot why eating out was so great,” you sigh contentedly.

“How d’you forget?” Anti laughs, quite happily shovelling his own meal into his mouth. “The eats are the only good thing about it.”

“Look, I don’t get out much, okay. The last time I went out somewhere nice for a meal was… when I was with you guys last, actually.”

Dark gives a low, pleased hum. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

You glance at him. “…how come?”

“It would have made the situation unpleasant if you had been seeing anyone else in our absence.”

He keeps his tone light, but something about the statement, the possessive way he’s looking at you, makes hairs raise on your arms. Your heart skips a beat.

You shouldn’t be okay with that. There’s no official arrangement between you, not one that has been stated ever, and even if you accepted the status of your relationship as being friends with benefits, no one mentioned anything about being exclusive. You doubt Dark and Anti are. You couldn’t spend your entire life hanging around waiting for a couple of goddamn demons who you might only see once in a blue moon. You couldn’t put your existence on hold for them; if you  _had_  happened to go on a date in the meantime, that was your prerogative.

Except you hadn’t. You’ve been so hung up on them that you never even looked at anyone else since.

“Why? You wouldn’t be jealous about it, would you?” you ask. Because that’s what it’s starting to feel like.

His eyes darken, and Dark’s hand grips your knee beneath the table. “I believe  _we_  have claim on you first.” Still keeping his voice soft, conversational, but there’s a minefield of danger lurking beneath the calm waters.

And you’re a head-over-heels  _idiot_ , because of all the conclusions you could take away from Dark’s statement, your brain fixates on the fact that they apparently consider you to be theirs. That they  _claimed_  you. It makes your breath catch in your throat, heart rate quickening. It’s a terrible thing to want, but you  _do_  want that, you’ve wanted it from the first moment they started flirting with you. It’s been the primary component of your fantasies ever since. To belong to them.

Dark caring enough to get jealous over you? Possessive of you? That flatters you so much more than it should.

“I haven’t seen anyone,” you reassure him, entirely genuine. “It didn’t even occur to me, honestly. How could I ever think about anyone else after being with you?”

That seems to satisfy Dark, though the intensity about him doesn’t lessen. It just shifts from a dangerous intensity to the sort of intensity that makes you feel like, if you weren’t in public, he’d be seconds away from shoving you against the nearest wall and kissing you until you were breathless.

His grip loosens, but he doesn’t take his hand off your knee.

Never one to be left out of the action, Anti shifts closer and snakes a casual arm around your waist as well.

You have to duck your head to hide the smile and blush on your face, as if you were just focusing on finishing your meal. They can be… kind of sweet, when they’re so casually affectionate.

Even though the main course was plenty, Dark talks you into sharing dessert as well. You should have twigged the moment he said  _sharing_ , of course. He orders some kind of white chocolate bread pudding which comes with ice cream and berries, and the opportunity for him to feed you by hand is too great to be passed up.

You can feel your face heating up, a mix of both embarrassment and rapidly becoming flustered. But you might as well own it. You meet Dark’s eyes and run your tongue over his fingers as you take the strawberry he offers you, and it’s absolutely worth it for the way his eyes darken with lust.

“You two are sickening,” Anti notes.

“Are you jealous?” Dark asks offhandedly. “I can feed you too if you would like.”

The suggestion makes you giggle, but Anti only smirks expectantly in return. And to your surprise, Dark actually follows through on the offer; you get a front row view as Dark places another of the berries against Anti’s lips. Only Anti doesn’t just lick Dark’s fingers. He swallows the berry and then takes the whole of Dark’s thumb into his mouth, sucking on it like it’s… something else. For an unnecessarily long time. His teeth graze against Dark’s skin as he curls his tongue around Dark’s thumb one last time, before letting it slide from his mouth with an obscene little popping noise.

You’re pretty sure both you and Dark are slightly turned on from that, and from the grin on Anti’s face, he damn well knows it.

“Alright, just go and one up me then,” you mutter, shifting slightly in your seat.

Anti cackles. The hand that he’d had around your waist now slides up your spine, guiding you closer to him so he can kiss you. Very thoroughly, and with all the same attention he was sucking off Dark’s thumb with.

“Is this going to happen every time I try to take you two out for a nice meal?” Dark sighs. “Anti. Decorum.”

Sharp teeth tug at your bottom lip, then Anti breaks away from the kiss. “You weren’t complaining ‘bout decorum a second ago. An’ I bet ye wouldn’t be complaining about decorum if I got under the table and started blowing you right about now.”

“Um. The table is made of glass,” you point out, a little breathless. Not that you would mind having  _that_  view, but it’s hardly the most subtle thing either.

The corner of Dark’s mouth twitches, somewhere between amusement and annoyance. But he’s notably quick to flag down your waitress and request the bill.

You manage to pay and make your way downstairs without further incident. Anti is remarkably well behaved, content with looping his arm around your waist again while you lean into him, and Dark holds your hand on your other side.

Rather than taking the most direct route, you cross the road and walk through the square, taking a nosy look at what event is happening there. The main attraction is a temporary ice skating rink that’s been set up, surrounded by twinkling festive lights.

It’s cute, but you have no inclination to partake in unplanned activities like ice skating, and you can’t imagine Dark or Anti wanting to ice skate either. Although—

You snort, then break out into laughter. Both of them turn to look at you.

“Sorry! I just had a really dumb thought.”

Dark raises an eyebrow, silently encouraging you to elaborate.

You cover your mouth to try to muffle your giggles, then point at the ice skates. “I just thought… Anti might like ice skating. ‘Cause knife shoes.”

“ _Knife shoes_ ,” Anti repeats.

Dark maintains his usual composed demeanour, but he squeezes your hand and you get the impression from the tilt of his head and tiniest shake to his shoulders that he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

Anti huffs. “If you think I  _wouldn’t_ slash someone across the throat with one of those, you’re very wrong.”

“Just with an ice skate in your hand, or while wearing them?” you ask.

“Either.”

That statement only makes you laugh harder. You don’t doubt he would in the slightest, and as horribly morbid as it is, that only makes the whole mental image even more amusing.

“I-I’m sorry,” you wheeze. “I just. Pictured it with like… a pirouette and a high kick and I-I… That’s not that funny, I’m sorry.”

You even manage to get a snort and a laugh from Dark with that one, ineffectively hidden by a cough.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Anti grumbles, but he doesn’t seem overly annoyed. In fact, he seems to be putting a little bit too much consideration into the idea, a wickedly amused look in his eye, although he’s doing his best not to let you see it. You hope you haven’t given him any kind of inspiration.

He leans over and lightly bites at your ear, tugging the shell with his teeth – you’re not even sure if it’s meant to be a teasing retribution, or simply affectionate, but either way it makes you laugh lightly again and blow a kiss at him.

You’re still grinning as the three of you enter back into the hotel. Rather than lead you back to the elevators and up to your room, Dark guides you further along the main corridor, towards the three ceiling-high arched windows at the far end. There’s a staircase – only a few steps high, but wide, carpeted in red – leading up to a set of massive, carved wooden doors.

And beyond that is the ballroom.

The room inside is all high ceilings and arched bays, balconies set into each archway and surrounded by draped curtains. Long banquet tables in the centre of the room, surrounded by circular tables draped in fine white tablecloths. The stage at the back of the room is surprisingly small, given what you imagine the room will be used for tomorrow evening – it’s definitely much more ballroom than designed for performances – and swamped by the marble dancefloor surrounding it.

“This room was once used for important awards ceremonies, in the earlier days of Hollywood,” Dark explains.

That sort of thing is more or less over your head. But it looks fancy, that much you can tell.

“Shall we?” Dark says, offering you his hand.

You glance back at Anti, who lets his arm slide away from your waist. He pulls a face. “Ain’t my thing, but you have fun or whatever.”

“I  _theoretically_  know how this goes, but I’ve never actually danced with anyone in practice,” you warn Dark. But you take his hand regardless, and he pulls you in against him. Close. Closer than any of the instructional demonstrations you were watching. His other hand slides around your waist, and your place your hand on his shoulder.

“I will give you any guidance you need,” Dark says. “Although technique is hardly a concern. This is purely for enjoyment.”

“Yours or mine?” you ask teasingly.

Dark’s reply is serious, though. “Both,” he says smoothly. “And I intend to make sure you do enjoy this. Very much.”

You’re not entirely sure if he’s talking about just the dancing anymore.

Dark starts you off slowly, simple waltz steps to let you get the hang of it. It’s easy enough to fall into the rhythm of it, letting him lead. Slowly, steadily, and then gradually starting to make your way in small circles around the dancefloor.

You relax into it. It’s… nice. A little old-fashioned, cliché almost, and not something you’d have ever thought you’d have the chance to or even  _want_  to do. But it suits Dark.

There’s something quietly thrilling about it. As Dark had said, technique was hardly your goal here – from what you remember of the instructions you watched, you were supposed to keep your elbows high, but Dark’s decided to forgo that in favour of simply holding you closer. There’s an elegance to it, an understated grace (perhaps on his part more than yours), and the simple pleasure of being held against Dark.

You rest your head against him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, and he raises his hand to gently tangle into your hair and hold you like that.

“Now that you have the hang of the basics, shall we try a little more?” he suggests. And while you were enjoying the intimacy of just slow-dancing together, there’s a hint of something wicked in his voice that has you intrigued.

You nod, then immediately laugh in delight as Dark dips you.

There’s no chance of you keeping up with any sort of recognisable steps now. Dark moves far faster, and you follow with a reasonable amount of grace given you don’t really know what you’re doing, but you have no option but to surrender entirely to Dark’s lead. He lifts you and spins you through the air like you weigh nothing at all and—damnit, you always were a sucker for casual displays of strength like that.

It’s a little dizzying, leaving you breathless, but it’s  _fun_. The way he spins you round then pulls you back against him so your bodies are pressed flush together, faces so close you could just lean in and kiss him – and oh, you’re tempted – but then he simply smirks before gripping your hips and raising you into the next lift.

“Dark!” you say, half in protest, half laughing. He’s so very obviously just showing off.

He slows you back down into a steady pace, just swaying together. “Do you want to stop?” he asks.

“No, but…” You glance over to the tables at the edge of the dancefloor; Anti’s sequestered one of the chairs and is sitting in it backwards, draped over the back of the chair as he watches you. His expression of one of bored detachment, but you get a feeling he’s putting it on to cover something else. You feel bad about leaving him out. “You sure you don’t want a turn, Anti?”

Anti snorts. “I ain’t doing that. Besides, the view from here is  _very_  nice.” A wide smirk crosses his face, and it abruptly occurs to you that your skirt is a little on the shorter side, and the style of it means it tends to flare out rather easily. Sometimes even the slightest gust of wind is enough to blow it up. And with all the spinning and lifts Dark was doing…

Normally you wear cycling shorts underneath with this dress so that you don’t have to worry about it, but you didn’t bother this time. Because… well, because maybe you wouldn’t have complained overly much if it was Dark and Anti who you ended up flashing your lingerie to. Which is apparently exactly what you’ve been doing.

You smooth the dress down and shoot a glare at him – a weak one, teasing, since you don’t really mind. Not if it gets Anti smiling crookedly at you with that heated look in his eyes. “You could’ve mentioned that, jeez.”

He only laughs. “Why? Might as well have some fun while you’re all enamoured with Dark.”

The heat vanishes again, and you’re definitely starting to get the feeling he’s a little jealous at being left out. So you drop the matter, leaving Dark’s side and going over to take Anti’s hands in both of your own. “Come and dance,” you insist.

“I already told ye I don’t know that ballroom shit.”

“I don’t care. You can just stand there and sway from side to side with me for all I care, but I don’t like leaving you out.”

Anti laughs again, but it’s got a softer edge to it than usual. “You’re cute.”

You tug him out of his seat and drag him to the dancefloor, an action that you only get away with because Anti is amused enough to let you. Despite Anti’s claims of knowing nothing, he settles quite comfortably into an embrace with you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his hands settled on your waist.

He gives a hum of consideration. “I dunno fuck all about the fancy footwork shit, but if you wanna be tossed about I can do that for ye.”

“Maybe.” It  _is_  thrilling how much strength they have, how they can so easily pick you up and throw you around. “But this… is kinda nice for now.”

Being held in his arms, close enough you can faintly hear the echo of his heartbeat. You shift your feet, trying to lead into some of the steps you were doing with Dark. He raises his eyebrows, then rolls his eyes at you, but he obliges nonetheless.

Just small steps, turning in slow circles. And for a while it’s nice, a few long minutes of just moving together like that, but Anti bores of slow and gentle very quickly.

The only warning you get is the flash of mischief in Anti’s eyes and a sudden smirk, and then you gasp and laugh as he abruptly dips you. And also kisses you, because he has to do  _something_  to one-up Dark.

Your fingers clutch tighter at the back of his shirt, moaning softly as his lips press insistently against yours. “Ah, Anti…”

“S’that romantic enough for ye yet?”

You grin. “Very. But you don’t have to be romantic and shit for me if you’re not comfortable with it.”

His eyes narrow and he pulls you closer against him; you can feel every firm line of his body pressed against yours. “Would you prefer I pin you up against the wall and fuck your mouth with my tongue? ‘Cause that’s what I’d really like to do with you,” he murmurs roughly against your ear, and your mouth abruptly goes dry.

Damn. You nod. That would also be very acceptable, as far as you’re concerned.

Anti pulls back with a grin. Apparently still determined not to be shown up completely by Dark, he tries one of the lifts as well. Only his version is more simply picking you up and tossing you bodily into the air, significantly higher than he has any right to, then spinning you round as he catches you again.

“ _Anti!!_ ”

Dark is still watching you with amusement, and takes that moment to cut in. Possibly to stop Anti throwing you around like a ragdoll; though, while your heart is a little in your throat after that, you’re disappointed you don’t get to do it again. It was exhilarating.

He meets your eyes and smiles, then offers his hand to Anti.

Anti stares at him. “What?”

“A dance?”

“Why? So you can show me how to do it properly?” he says, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “‘Cause I really don’t care.”

“Not particularly.” Dark’s reply is mild. “Perhaps I would just like to dance with you.”

Anti’s eyebrows raise, and he snorts. “You know how that usually works out.”

“I do know.” The little purr and the tone of Dark’s voice says that that’s exactly what he wants.

You feel like you’re slightly missing something here, but you’re more than happy to take a step back and allow them their moment too. After all, they were together long before you came into the picture. ‘Together’. You still haven’t figured out quite what the relationship between them is, and frankly you’re fairly convinced they don’t know themselves, but there’s certainly plenty of sexual tension there. Perhaps all of you are just friends with benefits and extra feelings on the side that no one feels like addressing.

Regardless, you’re content to take over Anti’s chair and watch for a while. Because even watching them is… something.

They don’t go for the same slower, intimate style of waltz that they were doing with you. You hardly know ballroom very well – and you doubt they’re strictly sticking to any one recognisable style anyway, since Dark’s the only one even potentially capable of doing so – but it seems like more of a tango. Sharper lines, more dramatic flair. The tension is almost palpable.

Dark leads, by the necessity of being the only one who knows the steps, but Anti isn’t ever content just to follow. Any time Dark makes a more complicated move, throwing in a little spin or a dip, Anti retaliates by taking over for a few steps and doing something of a similar nature to Dark in return.

Anyone watching might start to feel they didn’t particularly like one another, from the antagonistic nature of the way they danced together. Except that they never quite seemed able to take their hands off each other, and the distance between their bodies was almost non-existent.

There was definitely  _some_  kind of tension, alright.

The transition evolves so smoothly and so naturally you can hardly pinpoint where it happened, but at some point it stops even being a dance. Somewhere around when Anti’s hand wraps around Dark’s throat, or where Dark doesn’t dip Anti so much as attempt to throw him to the ground. It’s either a very violent dance, or a particularly graceful sparring match.

But Anti’s grinning, laughing as he throws Dark. Almost like he did to you, only with the intent of slamming Dark into the wall instead.

You make a small squeak of surprise – this is the first time you’ve seen them fight in person – but for all the violence behind it, there’s honestly no ill intent. This is what they do, how they handle the tension, you figure. By… sparring?

They’re clearly both enjoying it, though. And you get it. Seeing it in person like this, you actually kind of get it. The playfighting, the struggle. The way one of them will pin the other down – usually with notably far more physical contact than necessary – only for the other to break away and then flip their positions.

This is far more Anti’s element, and they’re clearly evenly matched. They’re not trying to hurt one another; they’re  _demons_ , and even though it may seem a little rough to you, nothing they’re doing would put a scratch on either of them. It’s more like—more like watching them wrestle in bed for dominance.

And  _that_  is a thought you now have in your head and can’t get out.

The more you watch, the more you see it. And see how much pure  _fun_  they’re having with it. The casual power, the grace, the skill. It’s really kind of hot.

Yeah. This is  _definitely_  just some kind of foreplay for them. It makes you squirm just watching them.

At the same time, you have to laugh to yourself. Fucking pair of idiots. They can’t just get it on like rational people who can admit to liking each other, they have to be like  _this_. But they’re not complaining. And neither are you. In fact, it’s almost kind of tempting to—

Dark has Anti pinned to the ground, a knee planted in his back and a hand around the back of Anti’s neck. He’s not paying attention to you at all.

So you dart over to wrap your arms around Dark from behind and pull him away.

You attempt to, anyway. Like you could actually physically drag Dark anywhere. But you have the leverage right, and, far more importantly, the element of surprise, and it shifts him enough for Anti to wriggle free.

There’s a moment of confusion while they both turn to stare at you, and you grin wickedly at them in return. You want in.

Dark raises an eyebrow, then a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. “Be careful, darling. You might not want to pick sides,” he says, a low purr in his voice. Teasing. Accepting you into the game.

“Or what?” you ask, only to gasp as he grasps each of your wrists, and then you’re the one pinned. Up against the wall this time.

A shiver of arousal floods through you, rather than any kind of fear.

Anti’s flipped himself up off the floor and, with Dark’s attention distracted, he takes out Dark’s legs and shoves him. Dark growls and lets you go as he’s forced to focus on not stumbling.

You glance at Anti, shooting him a grin, and you both drag Dark down to the ground. Somehow you find that  _you’re_  the one who ends up straddled across Dark and pinning him down. Only you’re hardly enough to keep Dark there, and he flips you so that you’re beneath him.

You let him think he has you for a minute; or maybe it’s more that you’re just enjoying the moment, squirming beneath him. Then you shift your legs and brace your feet, and you lever your hips up to throw him off.

It only works because he’s allowing it to. Going easy on you, letting you play along. You’re never really going to get away, never going to win, but giving you the chance to struggle is so much more fun.

Anti tries to attack Dark from behind, but Dark grabs you and pulls you up with him. He spins you around, pulling your arm behind your back with one hand and holding the other at your throat, like he’s holding you captive.

“I wouldn’t try anything, Anti,” he says smoothly.

It’s enough to get Anti to hesitate. He glances at you a moment, unsure.

You hook your foot around the back of Dark’s knee and kick hard enough to make it buckle – not the best move, given you both topple forward, but Dark releases you and you stumble out of his grip. Ending up at Anti’s feet instead.

Anti scoops you up in a bridal hold and you yelp in protest.

“Oh, hey, was this your hostage?” he asks, a wicked expression on his face. He lightly squeezes your shoulder in warning, before throwing you directly – and pretty damn forcefully – into Dark.

Directly into Dark, who was still just regaining his balance; he catches you, but at the expense of the force of it slamming him back up against the wall.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, breathless and exhilarated. Your heart is pounding in your ears, but you giggle delightedly as well. Dark only grunts.

You wriggle out of his grip to make room for Anti to come in and take down Dark, but instead of going for Dark, Anti wraps his arm around  _your_ waist. You squirm in his hold; that’s never going to work, so you just let all your weight drop. Anti could carry you just fine, but he’s being lenient, same as Dark. He lets you drag him down, even lets you grab his arm and flip him forwards over your shoulder.

A laugh bursts out of him. “You’re quite the little troublemaker, ain’t ya?” he says, sprawled on the floor and grinning like he had every intention of being there.

You give him a triumphant little smile in return and scramble back to your feet, only to turn and run straight into Dark. He grabs you and pulls you against him; face to face, his arm around your back like an iron vice.

“She really is,” Dark purrs.

The close contact is making your face heat up. The length of his body is flush against yours, and he’s into this little game too – you  _knew_  it. You can feel his growing hardness pressing into your hip. His other hand slides down your thigh and your breath catches.

“D-dark…”

The idea of playfighting is starting to slip from your mind. You’d be more than happy if either of them –  _both_  of them – wanted to pin you down and start doing filthy things to you. But, no. Not quite yet. You kind of want to keep the game going, just a little longer. If you can.

Dark smirks at you, leaning in so his lips ghost against yours. He’s not even kissing you properly, but the promise of it – along with your already racing heart, the thrill of it all – makes your knees feel weak. “Why are you fighting us, darling?”

You swallow, having to take a moment to remember how to speak. “’Cause you two were doing it and it looked like fun. It’s… kinda hot. A little bit of pretend struggle or whatever. Um.”

His hand is beneath your skirt now, high enough to toy with the lace of your panties.

“You could have been hurt.”

“You were holding back enough not to hurt each other. I trust both of you enough not to hurt me. And you didn’t.”

Dark chuckles, perhaps a touch coldly. “You put too much faith in creatures you don’t understand.”

“I put my faith in  _you_.”

It’s an oddly serious conversation to be having while he’s feeling you up.

Anti sidles up behind you, and you feel his lips against the back of your neck. “So. You like playing like this too, huh?”

“Mm. Maybe.”

Dark’s fingers follow the line of your panties to between your legs, and you groan as he lightly rubs against you. You’re turned on enough to be fairly slick already, and Dark touching you is doing nothing to help your situation. “It seems you do,” he notes, a touch of smugness in his voice.

You shiver at the contact, heat pooling in your belly. God. After the date, dancing, playing around with them like that… you need more. You need him to kiss you, touch you. Now. Please.

But Dark doesn’t. He’s looking at you with his eyes clouded with desire, like he wants it just as badly as you, but then he steels himself. “I think we need to talk.”

“…what?”

“We should go back up to the room.”

Going back to somewhere private you entirely understand, because you know exactly where you want the evening to progress from here, but to talk? He sounded so damn serious saying that all of a sudden.

Dark releases you, and you smooth down your dress again with a blush on your face. You share a glance with Anti. “That sounds like a not-good talk… did I do something wrong?” you ask.

“Naw. He just gets grumpy when he has blue balls,” Anti snorts.

“Well, we could go upstairs and  _not_  talk and help with that.”

Anti laughs at your forwardness, and even Dark softens and gives a quiet chuckle. “Unfortunately, there won’t be time for me to partake in any such activities before my meeting.”

“Damnit,” you blurt out before you can catch yourself.

“Quite,” he agrees. “But no, not a bad talk. If you want to start playing rough with us, however, we need to have a proper conversation about your limits, and what safewords you would prefer. Important details like that.”

“ _Oh_.”

You have discussed the issue. Sort of; maybe more like danced around it. The previous time you’d been with them, you and Anti had quite explicitly agreed that knifeplay was something you wanted to try, and Dark had briefly mentioned a few things you were very interested in doing as well. In the texts you’d sent since there had certainly been a fair amount of teasing, and plenty of it leaning towards being rather kinky in nature.

So it wasn’t as though you didn’t already have a good idea of what they were into, and they certainly knew what you were into. But Dark is right. You’ve never had the chance to properly sit down and talk it through.

The thought makes you a little nervous again, wringing the hem of your dress as the three of you make your way to the elevator and back upstairs. Good nervous. Excited nervous. If you  _need_  to have a serious conversation about it, that means they probably want to move things from the realm of just teasing to actually doing kinky shit with you. And that’s…

You try not to think about it too much. You’re going to need to be able to focus, after all, and getting yourself all worked up and turned on again by imagining the things they could do to you is not going to help the situation.

Back in the room, Dark directs you to sit apart from each other – not trusting Anti’s wandering hands, probably, even though technically  _Dark_  is the only one who’s significantly felt you up recently. Anti perches on the edge of the bed, while Dark takes the chair from the desk. You turn the armchair to face them, kicking your boots off so you can curl your legs up in it.

You don’t even know where to start. Even though you’re a lot more comfortable with them by this point, you don’t know if there’s ever any way to announce what sort of kinky things you’d like someone to do to you that’s entirely non-awkward. Not when you’re sat down to talk about it all seriously, at any rate. If you blurted out in bed it might be easier.

Dark leans over to touch your hand; you start slightly, so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t notice him moving at first. “There’s no need to feel self-conscious,” he reassures you.

“Oh. I’m fine. I’m just trying to figure out a way to phrase ‘please tie me up and spank me’ so that it doesn’t sound thirsty as fuck.”

Anti cackles, hard enough that he rocks backwards with laughter. “God, I love havin’ ye around.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “That was a joke to break the tension,” you clarify. “Though, uh. Not that I  _wouldn’t_  want to do that. It was just the first dumb thing that came into my head, but. You could. If you wanted to. I think I’d actually kind of like that. You know what, I’m going to stop talking now.”

“You’re adorable,” Anti says in delight.

Dark twines his fingers with yours and gives your hand a squeeze before drawing back again, an affectionate, amused little smile on his face. “That’s as good a place to start as any. How about we just go through the more standard kinks to begin with, and you can inform us on your position for each?” Although his tone remains serious, there’s a glint to his eyes you could swear means he’s teasing you. “You appear to have some interest in bondage?” he suggests.

“ _Yes_.” You clear your throat – you didn’t mean to come across quite so enthusiastic. “Um. Yes. I’d be interested in that.”

“What type? Rope? Cuffs? Shackles? More complex shibari styles, or simply for the purpose of holding you in place during sex?”

“Oh. Jeez.” You’d never put  _that_  much thought into it. “Any of those sound good, honestly, but… I guess what I’ve thought about most would be stuff like having my wrists tied to the headboard, that sort of thing? I’d like that a lot.”

Dark shares a look with Anti. “I’m certain that could be arranged,” he says. “Any limits?”

You shake your head. “I… don’t think so, not for bondage. Maybe just worth noting my circulation is kinda shitty at the best of times? I can get pins and needles pretty easily if I stay in the wrong position too long. Is that the sort of information you need?”

“That’s perfect, darling. We’ll be sure to take care, in that case.”

“I don’t think it’d be a big issue, it’s never bothered me before when I—I mean, it’s more just I can’t stay kneeling for very long, mainly.”

Anti catches your little slip and raises an eyebrow. “When what?” he prompts, a wolfish grin on his face.

You pause. There’s really no point being embarrassed; the whole point of this conversation is to be honest about what you want, isn’t it? Still. Anti didn’t  _need_  to ask. You shoot him a half-hearted, wry glower before admitting, “I tried tying myself up. A few times. After some of your texts.”

Alright. So perhaps some of the texts you’d exchanged had come pretty close to sexting territory.

“Is that so?” he purrs. “And what  _else_  were you doing after those?”

Dark interrupts, thankfully, before you’re obliged to answer. “Anti, I think we’re straying a little from the point here.”

“It could be relevant,” Anti defends.

“Was it rope you used?” Dark asks, and it takes you a moment to realise he’s referring back to you talking about having tried self-bondage.

“Oh. Yeah. I had rope, and… I’m not sure exactly where it came from, honestly, some kind of silk tie I found. Why?”

“Useful to know what you already have experience with and are certain you enjoy.”

You suppose that makes sense.

The curve of Dark’s smile turns mildly suggestive. “You also mentioned spanking,” he says. “What about impact play?”

Ah. Yes. The spanking thing. “I… look. I’m not a  _huge_  masochist or anything, but a little bit of pain is fun.” You swallow. “ _Very_  fun. I like to get roughed up a little. Though, uh. What exactly do you mean by impact play?”

“Any blunt instrument used to cause an impact with the body. Ranging from hands – such as in the case of spanking – to implements such as paddles, canes, riding crops, floggers, potentially repurposed everyday objects such as rulers or belts.”

The list is enough to be a little overwhelming. It’s not that you haven’t thought about it – about being with  _them_  in that sort of context – a lot, but you’ve never been in a relationship where anything of this depth was relevant, and Dark clearly knows far more than you do.

You think about it for a moment. “None of those would be hard limits, but… take it slow and ease me in on any of the harder stuff like canes?”

“Yeah, canes can bite like a bitch,” Anti comments idly.

The way he says it implies he’s very much speaking from experience. “…when did you get caned?”

Anti smirks. “Doll, we’ve done a  _lot_. Caning is tame. And also,” he jerks his thumb towards Dark, “edgelord asshole over here has a bit of a discipline schtick sometimes.”

“I will… keep that in mind?”

“There’s no need to be concerned about that. After all, I’m sure you will behave far better than Anti for me, won’t you, dear?” Dark says, with a low purr that makes your stomach flip.

“Y-yes, sir.”

Not that it’d be hard to achieve that. Anti would probably be a total brat, if he ever subbed at all.

“Ah, speaking of. You’re under no obligation to, but is that the sort of dynamic that would interest you? One of dominance and submission?”

God,  _yes_. You want both of them to dominate the hell out of you. There’s a needy little whine in your voice as you answer, “ _please_.”

“And you already seem to be inclined to call me sir, it appears.” Dark looks rather pleased with this fact.

“Is that the title you’d prefer?” you ask. “Master is good too, I’d be happy to call you that.”

Dark chuckles, lust flashing in his eyes as he looks at you. “Anti’s right. You really are rather adorable. It would be quite the sight, having you on your knees begging for your master…”

Fuck. You were supposed to be focusing and having a serious conversation, not starting to get turned on again just from hearing Dark talk about things like that in his damn  _voice_  of his, low and deep and sensual.

Anti snorts. “Now who’s the one getting off topic.”

Dark waves a dismissive hand, but returns to whatever mental checklist he’s going through. Whatever else he may be, he’s certainly very thorough when it comes to this. And as frustrating as it is to just sit here and  _talk_ , it’s also reassuring in a way that he’s taking such care to get to know what your boundaries are, what you’d enjoy most. And this is just for the ‘simpler’ kinks.

You cover all manner of things; blindfolds, gags, collars, sensory deprivation, temperature play, verbal degradation (the only one you really turn down; dirty talk is fine, but you prefer it used for praise over any too harsh humiliation), overstimulation, orgasm denial, various potential sex toys. Being treated roughly, pinned down and manhandled – that one makes you laugh, since  _yeah_ , you were absolutely loving the playfighting from earlier. Markings as well; Dark checks if you want to allow them to leave bruises and hickeys and scratches on you, which you most definitely do. The idea of being all marked up by them thrills you to the core.

“And wounds that break the skin, shallow cuts or such like?” Dark follows up with.

“What, like with  _knives?_ ” Anti butts in pointedly, notably perking up.

“Yes, yes. This is your territory.”

You squirm in your seat. Anti is looking at you very intently all of a sudden. “Yes. Please.” You have to take a moment to lick your lips. You’d more or less agreed to knifeplay with Anti already, and it suddenly occurs to you that Dark needs to leave for his meeting at some point. It’ll be just you and Anti for the night and… fuck. You need to pay attention and talk through this seriously, ‘cause there’s every chance it’s going to happen.

“Hard limit is any serious bodily harm, of the kind that might need actual medical treatment or whatever. I don’t like sharp objects that go  _deep_  – needles kinda squick me out like that – and I wouldn’t want it with a knife either.”

“I gotcha, doll.”

You nod, then continue. “You can…  _please_ do, cut me, make me bleed. As long as it’s shallow. The surface layers of skin are fine, but not deep enough to scar permanently or anything. Um.” It’s a little hard to keep your thoughts straight when every part of you just wants to go over to Anti there and then and beg him to pin you down and cut you up. “I’ll need to keep the marks covered, so nowhere that’ll be too difficult to hide. No face or hands.”

At least since it’s winter, it’s mild enough even in southern California that you can get away with wearing long-sleeved tops or hoodies, so that won’t cause too much of an issue.

“You cool if I happen to kiss or lick the cuts after?” Anti says, just lightly, but something about his tone feels like he’s very much hoping you’ll say yes. You grin.

“Yeah. I’d like that. I mean—as long as it’s safe? With the blood?”

Anti laughs. “You  _really_  think a being as powerful as I am would ever be bothered by any petty human diseases or shit? I can’t catch anything from you, you can’t catch anything from me.”

You can’t stop your eyes from dropping to the vivid gash on his throat, something a little too interested stirring in you. “That’s good to hear…”

Dark can see that you’re wavering. You’ve talked long enough about the minor little details of kinks. “What about aftercare?” he prompts you.

You pause for a moment, wrenching your attention back. “Oh. I’m… not actually sure. I’ve never really done a real scene or anything in depth enough to warrant that. Last time was really good though. Getting to have a bath with Anti, just being held for a bit. I guess I’d like that again?”

“Anti?”

Anti directs his reply at you. “’Course if I cut ye up I’ll take care of you afterwards. I’m not  _that_  much of a dick.”

“What about you?” you ask, and the two of them share a small frown of confusion.

“Uh, us?” Anti says.

“Do you need me to do anything for you afterwards? Like, for aftercare?”

Anti snorts, then laughs. “Doll, we’re  _demons._ ”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings,” you maintain.

“I don’t think we require any care, darling,” Dark says, but softly. He’s not laughing like Anti is. “However, that is sweet of you to take it into consideration.”

You catch Dark’s eye and he’s—you can’t read his expression at all, something utterly unfathomable in the depths of his gaze, but the intensity with which he’s looking at you makes your heart jolt. He looks like he’s moments away from pinning you down and kissing you senseless, or making love to you until you forget how to even speak. Just having him staring at you like that, pinned beneath his gaze, is already enough to leave you feeling flustered and breathless.

He’s looked at you with plenty of lust before, but this is… fuck.

“You done eye-sexing?” Anti interrupts. You finally manage to break the eye contact, turning away and coughing to try to cover just how much of an effect that—whatever the hell that was—was having on you.

“A-anyway,” you stutter.

Dark smiles. “Safewords. Do you have any preferences?”

Again. You’ve never been in the sort of relationship or situation where things like that would be required, but you’ve known enough about your inclinations and dipped your toe into enough research around the matter that you’re familiar with how it all works. “Not really. Just the traffic light system would be okay with me.”

“That’s fine,” he nods, before gesturing for you to continue. “Would you be so kind as to define each of your colours for us, just to ensure we are all on the same page?”

“Green for everything’s good please continue, yellow to pause things briefly and talk it through if there’s an issue or something that needs changing or addressing, red to immediately end the scene.”

Dark seems satisfied with that. “Perfect.” He glances at Anti.

“Works for me.”

That seems to be everything for the time being. There's still so much more you could cover, but you’ve been talking for a long time already and your impatience is starting to build into something difficult to bear. You just  _want them_.

Dark gestures you over to him, and you nearly stumble in your hasty enthusiasm to climb into his lap. He takes hold of your hips and drags you against him, his own impatience showing in the roughness of his grip. And the roughness of his kiss as he finally brings your lips together.

It steals your breath away immediately. One of Dark’s hands stays on your hip while the other lifts to cup the back of your neck, pulling you close. His lips so firm and insistent, so damn  _passionate_. That’s the best word for it. Both Anti and Dark have kissed you plenty before, and you’ve always thoroughly enjoyed it, but those kisses were always on a scale from affectionate to stemming from pure lust and need. You’ve never doubted they wanted you.

But passionate. That’s new.

It makes your heart ache, and you can’t even place why. You don’t  _want_  to place why, because that’s the last thing you have the mental capacity to consider when Dark’s tongue is inside your mouth doing the most deliciously sinful things and your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. Everything you’d been trying to hold back, all the arousal at the thought of the things you could do together, comes flooding back and—fuck. Oh,  _fuck_.

“Dark,” you moan. “Dark,  _please_ …”

Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, kissing him back with equal intensity. You rock in his lap, trying to grind down, but Dark growls and tightens his grip on your hip to stop you.

He lets the kiss linger a moment longer, then draws back with a terse sigh. “Meeting,” he says.

“Fuck.”

Dark huffs a short laugh of agreement, somewhere between amusement and annoyance. The latter isn’t directed at you, though, just the situation in general.

He picks you up and places you on the bed next to Anti, doing his best to smooth his suit down. “I was planning to shower before leaving, but unfortunately our discussion took longer than anticipated.”

“Sorry—” you begin.

“Don’t be. Time much better spent.” He turns his attention to Anti. “Treat her well,” is all he says.

“Oh, I will,” Anti purrs.

“We may have slightly different definitions of ‘well’,” you mutter under your breath. Even though that was the whole point of such a long, in-depth conversation, that you  _didn’t_  have different definitions of it, but you can’t resist the opportunity for snark. Anti laughs.

Dark kisses you again, briefly but no less hotly, then does the same to Anti before nodding curtly and abruptly storming out the door.

Anti’s grinning like there’s no tomorrow. “Hoo boy, I do  _not_  envy Mark having to deal with that,” he says. “Ye probably shouldn’t have wound him up like that right before leaving.”

“Firstly, that was in no way my fault;  _he_  kissed  _me_. Secondly, you would have absolutely done the same thing, and on  _purpose_ , don’t even try to deny it.”

He doesn’t. He just laughs and swings his leg over your lap, shoving you back down onto the bed. His smile shifts from one of amusement to something far more predatory, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Just you and me, doll,” Anti purrs. He takes the zip of your dress and slowly drags it down, never taking his eyes from yours.

“So tell me. What d’you wanna do?”

“Anti—” You cut off into a moan as he rolls his hips against yours, and you can feel just how hard he is even through his jeans. You’re not the only one who got a little too interested in the things you were talking about. You’re almost tempted to just to forget about all of the kink talk and negotiation, and just fuck him right there and then. But at the same time… “I want to try it. The knifeplay thing. Please.”

He brushes his fingers along your jaw, then trails them down the newly exposed skin revealed where your unzipped dress parts. The tips of his clawed fingernails graze between your breasts and down your stomach, and you shiver beneath the touch. Even just that sensation raises the hairs on your arms; imagining if it was the tip of his knife, the threat of it, the bite of the blade digging into you—you want that. You want to try it.

It’s kind of messed up if you think about it. More than kind of. The first time you ever saw Anti ended in him slitting the throat of one of the YouTubers you supposedly cared about and looked up to most. Even if that was all for show, you have no doubt he has killed people for real before.

He’s used that knife to  _murder_  people, and you’re still here getting turned on at the thought of him fucking you while he holds it against your throat.

It’s the thought of the thrill of it, the fear laced with excitement, pain blurring with pleasure. Being at his mercy. Knowing what he’s capable of, but still trusting him – all caution and better judgement thrown to the wind – to not push you further than you can handle.

When he kisses you, it’s every bit as heated and needy as the one you shared with Dark.

There’s a tremble in your fingers as you clutch at Anti’s shoulders; he can tell, and he doesn’t stop his deep, demanding kisses until the only tremble running through your body is one of arousal. No nerves. No going back. Well, unless you say red… but you really don’t want to.

Anti finally draws back, his eyes glazed as he grins hungrily down at you. “Did you want me to tie you up too? Wrists to the headboard, was it?”

You can only nod, dazed and out of breath.

He slows down for a moment, and that’s probably a good thing. Shit. You need to  _calm down_. Just relax and enjoy what’s going to come, and not only be thinking about getting in his pants straight away.

Anti unzips your dress to the bottom and helps you sit up for a moment so he can slide the straps from your shoulders, taking a long moment to appreciate what you were wearing underneath. Matching black lace bra and panties, and the garterbelt and fishnets still. “Cute,” he reiterates lowly. He snaps the strap of your garterbelt, and you giggle.

They have to go, though. Anti’s going to need access to your thighs. He slides the fishnets off, then unhooks your bra and pulls that away too before laying you down on the bed again.

He kisses the underside of your jaw, teeth grazing against your throat. “I do appreciate this, doll,” he murmurs.

“Huh?”

“That you’d let me play with ye like this.”

“I mean. It’s not like I don’t get to enjoy it too,” you point out.

His hands wander across your exposed skin, exploring you. He cups one of your breasts, gently rolling your nipple between his fingers, then pinching and making you gasp and squirm for a moment. “Not too many people would let a sadistic demon with a knife loose on ‘em.”

“I don’t have much sense of self-preservation.”

Anti snorts, and you shoot a heated, teasing grin back at him. “Shuffle up,” he commands, and you do so, shifting further up onto the bed so your hands can reach the bars of the headboard.

He vanishes for a moment – literally, glitches away too fast for you to follow – and when he returns, there are two short coils of rope in his hands.

“But for real,” you say, softer now. He’s focusing on tying your wrists, not looking at your face, but you look up at him. “I trust you.”

“I’m going to hurt you.”

“I want you to.”

“Why?”

“Um. Masochism…?”

Both wrists tied, he finally glances back down at you and meets your eye. “I meant why would you trust me. Seems a stupid thing to do.” His tone is still light, dismissive, but there’s something oddly almost… vulnerable in the edge to it.

“Because I like you, and I care about you.”

“You really shouldn’t,” he says, voice hardening abruptly.

There’s a faint buzz of static, a sharp glitching noise, and then the knife is in Anti’s hand. He swings it down in a vicious arc, aiming for your jugular and—you can’t fight human instinct, fear and adrenaline flood through you, your breath catching in your throat, but you don’t flinch and you don’t pull away. He stops just millimetres away, then gently presses the edge of the blade against your throat like a caress. It takes everything you have not to shake.

“I could murder you. I could slice your throat just like this, I could cut your chest open and tear out your heart.”

Your heart already feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest as it is. “But you won’t.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“Then that’s the hill I die on. But I’m not taking it back.”

Anti hesitates, his fingers twitching on the hilt of his knife. “Only a goddamn human could…” he mutters to himself. He lets the knife slip from his grip, falling to the covers, and he takes your face between his hands and kisses you instead.

It’s immediately deep and messy and thorough – so very, very thorough, Anti’s inhumanly long tongue mapping out every inch of your mouth, savouring every sensitive little spot, until your knees feel weak. Pinned beneath him, wrists bound above your head, almost entirely naked apart from a pair of lacy panties that never really covered that much to start with while he’s still fully dressed. You’re so vulnerable like this, helpless, but that thrills you rather than scares you. Mostly.

It’s also frustrating as fuck, because you want more than anything to wrap your arms around him, but all you can do is tug at your restraints and squirm as he makes good on his promise from earlier about fucking your mouth with his tongue.

“Anti,” you whine.

He laughs against your lips and finally pulls away, smirking at your glazed eyes and flushed face.

You try to remember how to think, because  _damn_. There was something… important you were going to say, wasn’t there? But he’s kind of broken your brain a little.

You swallow. “Wow. Okay.” You pause again, panting. “What the hell was all that about?”

Anti raises an eyebrow. “It’s fun to kiss ya?”

“Before that. The bit about threatening to murder me.”

His expression sours, and you feel like you probably shouldn’t have brought it back up when Anti’s already provided such a lovely distraction. But it  _was_  a bit of an asshole move, and you don’t feel like just letting that kind of shit fly, demon or no.

“You’re  _too_  cute. You make me feel things and I don’t fuckin’ like it,” he says, almost pouting.

You stare at him for a moment while that sinks in, then you  _laugh_. It’s exactly like you noticed while watching him and Dark fight; they’re both  _fucking idiots_  incapable of just admitting they want to get it on with someone without being all antagonistic about it.

But also—your heart skips a little beat. He feels something for you? You’re not stupid, you don’t think a demon could ever  _love_  anyone and you would never expect them to, but maybe on some level he’s… actually a little bit attached to you? The same way you’re attached to them. And maybe you’re just as much of an idiot because you don’t want to address that either; that’s a whole too-complicated, thorny mess that you don’t want to get into when you’re horny and mostly naked laid out beneath him. So you play it off.

“Jesus. Don’t try and scare people like that just because you don’t want to acknowledge maybe you  _like_  someone, you emotionally constipated demonic trash fucker.”

Anti looks so offended – not at the insult so much as the fact you insulted him at all – that you break down into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, you are so gonna get it,” he growls, but it’s back to being playful rather than any kind of serious threat. He looms over you, hands braced on either side of your shoulders, and you just grin up at him with no repentance for calling him names.

Staring up at him like that… you want to kiss him again. You want to tangle your hands in his hair and pull him down and make out with him until you’re a needy mess.

The best you can do with your hands tied is lean up just far enough to press your lips sweetly against his, then trail your mouth down to his neck wound and press a kiss there as well. That gets you a soft groan, and the slightest buck of Anti’s hips against yours.

“Can I?” you ask.

Anti chuckles. “That’s right. You wanted to play with the wound, didn’t ye? Kinky little shit.”

Given you’re currently tied to the bed and planning to let Anti cut you up however he likes with a knife just for the fun of it, you’re not really in any position to deny that. You just kiss Anti’s neck again, a little firmer, before trailing your tongue along the edge of the gash. It has the metallic tang of blood, but tastes of something staticky at the same time, buzzing against your lips.

“Is it sensitive?”

“A little,” Anti says, trying to play it off like it doesn’t bother him. The touch of roughness in his voice in more telling.

You press a hot, open-mouthed kiss right on top of the wound, tongue dipping in to taste it, and Anti swears. You can feel his cock against you, hard and twitching in the confines of his jeans, as you lavish the same thorough attention along the entire length of the gash.

“Ffffuck. The hell you tryin’ to do?” he groans.

Your mouth is too preoccupied to answer. You nibble gently at the edges of the wound before dipping your tongue back in and deeply, thoroughly exploring it, almost like you’re trying to eat the damn thing out.

“ _Enough_ ,” Anti finally growls, harshly shoving you away. His piercing green eyes are pure lust. “I’m gonna fuckin’ cum in my pants if you keep that up.”

Despite the rough treatment, you can’t help but grin. Knowing you can have that much of an effect on him. You’re so very tempted to try it, see if you can keep pleasuring him enough like that for him to orgasm, but Anti cuts you off.

“Don’t even  _think_  about it. If you wanna play with wounds so much, let’s see how ye like being on the other end.”

He picks up the knife again, and your breath catches in your throat. Yes. God, yes. You’re so ready for this now.

Anti smiles wickedly at you. “Stay still, doll.”

The cold metal of the blade presses against the side of your neck; not digging in, not yet, he’s just letting you feel the sensation of it. The sharpness of the edge, how easily it could tear into you. Slowly trailing the tip along the line of your collarbones, down your sternum. You have to bite back a quiet whimper as he teases each of your peaked nipples with – thankfully – the dull edge.

He pulls away for a moment, leaning back to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. Then Anti settles into place, between your legs now, and nudges you with the knife in encouragement for you to spread them wider for him.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, heart fluttering in anticipation. The feel of the cold metal against your skin – and god, you’re already starting to feel all warm and overheated, and the contrast is even more delicious – makes you want to squirm. But you stay still for him.

Your knees are bent and raised, framing Anti on either side; he hooks his elbow beneath one and leans in to lick a trail along the inside of your thigh. Then he places the knife there instead. Blade digging into you, pressing deep enough to give it some bite.

“Colour?”

“Green. G-go ahead.”

He drags the knife; it catches this time and splits the skin in its wake, and your breath hisses out between your teeth.

It’s more that you were  _expecting_  it to be painful than it actually hurting. Because it doesn’t; not badly, anyway. It just… stings. He’s starting slow, shallow like you asked. The cut is visible, a tear in the skin, but not even bleeding. No, that takes longer; several seconds pass before the blood finally starts to well up. Even then it’s sluggish, no worse than a papercut really, beading along the length of the gash.

He  _could_. What he said before. He could murder you. He could so easily break you. But – despite the fact he’s still cutting you will a goddamn knife – he’s being so damn gentle about it. Holding back.

You’re pleased about not being murdered and all, but he doesn’t need to treat you quite so delicately either. That’s no fun for either of you.

“Mm. More.”

The next cut is deeper, blood welling to the surface immediately this time. The sadistic delight in Anti’s eyes as he slices into you makes your stomach flip and your core ache.

It still doesn’t  _hurt_ ; certainly not unbearably. It doesn’t feel any worse than if you dug your fingernails hard into your palm. Just with a little extra sting. Anti is being incredibly tactile about it too; his possessive grip, the way he runs his fingers over the skin he intends to cut next, when he leans in and runs his tongue over the gashes he’s just carved into you.

The last of those makes your breath catch, heat flooding to your face. It’s such a heady mix of sensations – pain, pleasure, the biting sting of the blade, the heat of Anti’s mouth against you. And you’re so helpless to do anything like this, all laid out for him with your hands bound above your head. Completely at his mercy.

There doesn’t seem to be any particular pattern to the cuts; Anti’s just littering shallow, bloody lines all across the top and inside of your thighs. And you’re gasping, making choked-back little half-noises as his knife slices into you. Over and over, slow and drawn out as Anti enjoys every moment.

He trails the tip of the knife over your hip, and the next line is carved just above the lace of your panties. That’s the first one to get an outright moan out of you, and Anti seems delighted.

“That’s it, baby. I wanna hear you,” he purrs, digging the knife into you again and revelling in the way the skin splits apart so easily for him.

Now you’ve started being loud, you can’t hold it back anymore. Maybe because Anti’s moved higher now, his attention on your hips and sides and stomach, and it feels much more sensitive there. Or maybe because it just keeps building and  _building_ ; the cuts aren’t any deeper, the sting of it isn’t any worse, but it’s like the dull ache left over from every previous cut keeps adding together until it leaves you feeling dizzy.

It makes you want to squirm so badly, but you don’t dare. Not with Anti’s knife pressed into you. Your hands tighten into fists, head tossed back and eyes clenched helplessly shut.

“A-anti, ahh…”

“You have no idea how fuckin’ good you look like this.”

His voice is so rough with want. His touch too, the clawed nails of his free hand grazing down your side and making you whimper.

It’s—a lot. You find yourself forgetting to breathe; that’s probably not helping with your lightheadedness, come to think of it. Your thighs and stomach are a mess of vivid red lines, blood smeared against the skin where Anti’s fingers or lips have been.

He’s moving upwards, knife cutting into your chest just above the soft tissue of your breast now. Slowly still, savouring it, and the way he drags it out only makes the sensation more intense.

Maybe a little too intense. It hurts, but at the same time it feels so  _good_  having Anti all over you, and it makes you ache with want, but your head is spinning and you just—

“ _Nngh_. Y-yellow, Anti, I...”

You feel the knife immediately lower away from you, and Anti’s expression shifts to one of concern. “You alright, doll?”

You take a moment to gulp in a few steadying breaths. “Mmm. Don’t wanna stop. I just… need a breather.”

“Need me to back off?”

You shake your head with as much vehemence as you can muster. The contact is good – it helps ground you, giving you something to focus on. “Stay. Just… hold me, talk to me for a moment?”

“Uhh. Ye sure you’re doin’ okay?” he asks, but he obliges you. He’s put the knife aside for the moment; one hand cradles the back of your head, the other rubbing small circles against your hip.

“Yeah. Just felt kind of lightheaded for a second is all.” Honestly, a moment to breathe was all you needed; the dizziness is fading already, and all that’s left is the sensation of feeling delightfully buzzing and floaty.

Anti gives a soft snort. “I forget how fragile you humans can be. So easy to break, and yet ye’d still give yourself to me like this.”

All you can do is grin up at him, because yeah, you’d absolutely give yourself to him like this and you’re hardly about to deny it. He’s not looking at you, though. He’s looking at the cuts he’s left with an expression of utmost appreciation.

“Fuck. Yer so good. So gorgeous like this, all marked up. All  _mine_.”

The way he says it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “All yours,” you agree, voice cracking on a moan.

Anti’s eyes snap back up to meet yours, and he cups your face between his hands and kisses you until you’re breathless. The length of his body presses up against yours, his weight bearing down on you and pinning you to the bed. You can’t resist arching up into the contact. He’s so warm, and the contact of so much skin against skin is delicious. You just wish his jeans weren’t in the way either.

Even with them, you can feel how hard Anti is through the fabric – god, he really is so damn into this knifeplay thing, isn’t he? Though it’s not like you can judge him for that, not with how wet and needy and aching you are as well.

The way he presses against you and growls your name is  _not_  helping. “You have no fuckin’ idea how much I wanna carve my name into you an’ just  _claim_  you.”

He grinds down into you as he says it, and you can’t help the needy whimper that bursts from your lips. When he says ‘claim’, it’s clear he means it in a thoroughly physical sense. And you want that –  _need_ it – too. The ache between your legs is driving you mad; you’ve been teased all evening, you have to get something inside you. Soon.

“Do it,” you beg him. “Please.”

“Which part? The carving or the claiming?”

“ _Both_.” You blurt out your answer without thinking, but you realise it’s exactly what you want anyway. The knife is fun and all – very fun – but the thought of him actually carving his name? Like a brand, a mark of ownership. It’s always thoroughly thrilled you whenever either of them leave any kind of marks on you, but  _that_ …

“Make it deeper. Enough to scar, for a few weeks at least. Months. Permanently, I don’t care, just—Anti, please, I’ll be yours, carve your name into me, I want it.”

Anti’s eyes darken, and he leans in. When he kisses you again, it’s pure heat.

He reaches up – it takes you a moment to realise what he’s doing, still thoroughly distracted by his lips against yours. But he’s undoing the ropes.

“No!” you protest. “I didn’t want to stop!”

Anti chuckles. “Demanding little minx, ain’t ye? We’re not stopping. I’m gonna flip you over and carve into your back instead; it’ll be a little less sensitive for going deeper, yeah?”

“Oh. Okay.” You’ll miss being tied up, but it makes sense.

“S’cute how much you want it though,” he says, kissing the tip of your nose. He unravels the last of the rope, rubbing your wrists to make sure the circulation is still flowing fine, before sliding his hands back down your sides. He takes your hips and flips you over, just as promised.

The contact – all the little cuts and slices on your front pressed against the covers – stings even worse. They’re all shallow enough that even the ones that did bleed a bit have dried over by now, so at least you’re not likely to make a mess of the nice sheets. You can definitely still feel them though; you squirm in place, but that only makes the stinging worse.

Anti presses you down and holds you still with a hand around the back of your neck. Just a brief reminder, then he lets go and trails his clawed nails down your spine to the small of your back.

Your breath is catching again, anticipation heightening your senses and making you moan even at the slightest touch. The knife is back, and the tip of it grazes along the soft flesh of your waist, then lower.

“Ready?”

You nod helplessly, and Anti doesn’t keep you waiting. He braces one hand on your hip to hold you steady while the other presses the knife into you, and you gasp.

It’s deeper now. You can feel the difference; less surface level sting, more  _bite_. It doesn’t hurt too much more, though. In fact, it’s almost easier this way. Anti is eager, impatient, and now each cut is quicker. Not as drawn out as the ones before. The pain of the knife slicing through your skin is more intense, but it’s over sooner and, oddly, you can handle that a lot better than the lingering ache. That, and the knowledge of  _what_  he’s doing.

You can feel the shape of the lines he’s carving – not in single straight lines, but shorter, jagged strokes going over each mark several times – until it spells out his name, and you’re clutching at the sheets and choking on sobbing little breaths because of how damn badly you need him. Want him. You’re his, all his, you have  _his name carved into you_ , and it’s such a fucking turn on.

“Anti,” you moan brokenly.

He only growls your name in response. The knife is cast aside the moment he’s done – you don’t know if he’s just tossed it somewhere nearby, or glitched it back out of existence or whatever he does with it when he’s not using it, but you hardly have the mental capacity left to care.

Anti bites into your side, just hard enough to make you whimper and arch beneath him, then his mouth trails hotly over the cuts he’s carved into you. These ones are bleeding a lot more significantly than any of the previous gashes, and Anti curls his tongue against the wound to lap up the blood and  _fuck_. It sends a rush of pure arousal through you, heat pulsing in your core.

“Please! Oh,  _god_ , Anti. I need you.”

He squeezes your hip in a reassuring agreement. “Get on your hand and knees,” he commands roughly, and you immediately, desperately, scramble to obey. As much as you can, anyway. You end up more braced on your forearms than on your hands, but it’s enough.

Anti’s presence vanishes momentarily, and the bed shifts as he removes his jeans; his hiss of relief as his erection is finally freed is clearly audible. There’s the sound of a condom wrapper tearing open, and then after a few moments more Anti’s hands are back on you again.

He hooks his fingers beneath your soaked panties. His knuckles graze against your hot, aching entrance in the process, and you moan helplessly. God, you  _need_  it.

Thankfully, Anti is every bit as impatient, just as worked up and turned on himself. He pulls the lacy fabric down your thighs, and then you feel the head of his cock immediately pressing against you. Yes, fuck  _yes_. Please.

The sound you make as he slowly sinks into you is one of pure, blissful relief. It feels so fucking amazing to finally be filled up. And  _god_ , he fills you so good.

“A-ahh, Anti…”

“Fuck. Yer so goddamn tight for me,” he growls. You can feel his breath hot against the back of your neck, and it makes your hair stand on end.

You’re clenching around him, so desperate and needy for it, and the way he rocks into you sends heady waves of pleasure searing through your veins. His hands pinning your wrists to the bed while he fucks you from behind, the blood smearing on your back and your own slick trickling down your thighs. Rough, messy, filthy. Exactly what you needed.

His hand migrates from your wrist to your neck, wrapping around your throat and applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. Not choking you, but the thrill of the threat makes you tremble beneath him.

All you can do is groan his name, over and over in a breathless litany, rolling your hips back to meet each thrust.

His grip on you tightens briefly in warning, and then Anti pulls you upright. He switches your positions around, so that now he’s the one at the head of the bed, sat leaning back against the headboard, and you’re in his lap with your back to his chest and his cock buried even deeper inside you. You kick your panties off the rest of the way so you can spread your legs wider for him, leaning back and letting your head fall against his shoulder.

The new position gives him access to the front of your body, and Anti’s eyes glow with delight as he trails his fingers over all the little cuts and gashes he’s left littered across you.

“So gorgeous,” he purrs. “Such a good little puppet for me.”

You don’t have the coherence to answer with words, but you moan in agreement. You turn your head to nuzzle against the side of his neck, and your hand covers his where it’s settled on your hip, tangling your fingers together. Casual little gestures of affection at the same time he’s thrusting roughly up into you, his other hand still squeezing around your throat, and the combination feels so deliciously, blissfully sinful.

You litter soft kisses against his neck at the same time as grinding your hips down to take in as much of him as possible, and you taste the metallic tang of blood as your lips graze against the corner of his wound. Distantly, eyes blank and glazed over with pleasure, you grin. There’s no conscious thought behind the action – you’re barely capable of thinking anything right now other than ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘please’ – but you raise yourself up on your knees and turn, straddling Anti so you’re face-to-face.

Both of you groan as you abruptly sink back down onto his cock.

Anti grips your hair and pulls you in to kiss you. It’s every bit as rough and passionate and deep as the way he’s fucking you, and the way his tongue ravages your mouth is— _fuck_.

“Anti,” you beg helplessly. You’re trembling against him, the way his cock rams into you making your eyes roll back, and the heat and pleasure are almost too much to bear. The intensity of it leaves you utterly breathless, and all you can do is cling to him while he grips your hips and pounds into you. You’re probably leaving scratches, clawing at his back, but from his enthusiasm and the way it only spurs him on you figure he’s probably into that. He  _would_  be.

You’re going to come. Soon. You’re so close and Anti is so unrelenting, every touch, every thrust, driving you rapidly towards your peak. You want him to come too.

So you lower your head, mouth trailing hotly along the stubble of his facial hair, then down to his throat. You find his neck wound and tongue across the gash, and Anti swears.

His grip on you tightens, enough to hurt, but you’re so caught up in the moment that the pain is only another sensation to add to the already heady mix of pleasure and lust. You’re going to have claw marks torn into your hips before the end of this. Worth it, though. So worth it.

The taste of blood and static fills your mouth as you latch onto the wound, tongue stroking inside it. Under any other circumstance, it would probably be a pretty unpleasant thing to do to someone, but Anti doesn’t follow normal human rules. And – from the way you can feel his cock twitching inside you at your actions – it certainly  _seems_  like he greatly enjoys that form of stimulation.

“Doll—” he chokes out. Half in pleasure, half in warning. All his little noises only grow louder, the groans as he fucks into you, the guttural gasps.

You can’t form words at all. Even if your mouth wasn’t preoccupied, you can’t think through the heat and need and  _Anti_. All you can do is moan, clinging to him even tighter. You tense in his grip, clenching down around his cock as your orgasm tears through you.

You’re being too loud, crying out with the pleasure, but _goddamn_. It’s—good, so good, but intense enough to be almost overwhelming.

Anti’s not far behind, only needing a few more rough, erratic thrusts into your trembling cunt before he’s coming as well. He pulls you away from his neck wound so that he can kiss you instead, tasting his own blood on your lips as you ride out your orgasms together.

You’re still shaking even once it’s over, slumping limply against Anti’s chest, eyes glazed, heart racing and panting to catch your breath. Fuck. That was— _fuck_.

Neither of you move. You don’t even think you can.

Anti slowly runs his fingers down your spine. “You okay?”

“Nngh.”

That gets a quiet laugh out of him. “That good, huh?”

You smile, a stupid all-fucked-out grin, and kiss him again. You still can’t quite speak, but  _yeah_ , you’re so okay.

He lets you stay like that a while longer, laying against him with his cock softening inside you. His attention turns to the small of your back, just above your hip, where the flesh is sliced and bloody. Lightly tracing the letters he’s left carved into you, and the contact makes you shiver and sigh.

“Alright,” he prompts you. “We oughta get you cleaned up.”

“Mm,” you agree, if somewhat reluctantly. You’re a mess, sticky with blood and sweat and your own slick, and a shower is definitely something you need. But at the same time, all you want to do it stay tangled up with Anti and pass out in his arms.

Anti lifts you off him, and you moan softly as his cock slides free. He leaves you only long enough to get rid of the condom, then returns and kisses you again. He grins, amused. “You gonna be able to walk, or should I carry ye?”

Honestly, you probably could walk. Maybe. You still feel boneless and limp in the aftermath of your pleasure, but you’ve had enough time to recover that hopefully your knees wouldn’t completely give out on you. But the physical contact of being held against Anti is too tempting to pass up.

You reach out for him, and he snorts. He knows exactly what you’re doing, but he indulges you anyway and scoops you up.

Despite the time you’ve had to gather yourself, you’re still shaky, and Anti can tell. He sets you on your feet in the bathtub, but keeps an arm wrapped around your waist and lets you stay leaning against him. You could have taken a bath together like last time, but you’re glad Anti’s settled for more of a quick shower for this evening. As enjoyable as a bath would have been, you really want to just clean up quickly and be free to curl up in bed.

Well, maybe not too quickly. Anti takes his time, grinning wickedly as he helps you wash, his hands all over you. You’re not sure how much is meant to help and how much is just feeling you up, but you’re hardly complaining. His eyes linger on all the marks he’s left – they’re nothing more than vivid red lines, looking no worse than scratches now the blood’s been washed away – and the intensity of his gaze makes you shiver despite the warmth of the water.

“Feel better?” he grins, and you nod.

“Mmhm,” you finally manage. “Amazing.” Your voice is still a little strained and breathless, but not lacking in any sincerity.

“So. Think yer into knifeplay after giving it a try?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re good,” you say with a laugh. As if that wasn’t damn obvious.

“With a knife or my dick?”

You snort. “Both.” Like he doesn’t already know it. But his smug little grin says he likes to hear it anyway. “But… maybe not all the time, with the knife. That was incredible, but kind of intense—I don’t think I could handle it as a regular thing, y’know?”

“’Course.”

“Every so often though, that would be… nice.”

You say that as if ‘often’ is a relevant measure of time when it comes to Dark and Anti. You don’t see them often to begin with. And you’re working under the assumption that this agreement – relationship, whatever it even is between you at this point – is going to continue long term. The implication it will has been there since the first night, and you suppose there’s no reason to think it wouldn’t. Just as long as they don’t get bored of you, or you manage to mess it up with any… feelings, or bullshit like that.

Because being with Anti like this, held in a loose embrace against him after being so thoroughly fucked, you really, really feel like you like him so much more than you should. Honestly, you’re just getting carried away. An infatuated idiot. But some foolish, overly romantic part of you almost wants to say that you kind of love him a little already.

You don’t want to risk speaking and letting anything as stupid as that slip out, so you just kiss him instead.

He’s grinning when you pull away. “Yer so fuckin’ precious,” he purrs. His hand wraps around you, ghosting over the deeper mark on your back. “An’ now you’re mine for good. Pretty sure this one is gonna scar.”

“ _Good_.”

“You okay with that? You said earlier you didn’t really want any permanent marks.”

You shrug, pushing aside the way your stomach flips at how casually he says that. That you’re his, for good. “I don’t want to be  _covered_  in scars. Like, all the little lines wouldn’t really mean anything, it’d just be messy. But if it’s your name… that’s different, that  _means_  something.” Means so much. “It was kind of a heat of the moment thing, but I definitely don’t regret it.”

“Heh. Good. Dark’d have my hide if I’d already pushed your limits too much.”

You raise your eyebrows, grinning suggestively. “Oh, really? Would he punish you for it?”

Anti pinches your side, and you make a noise somewhere between a shriek and a laugh. “You’d like ta see that, wouldn’t ye?”

“M-maybe,” you gasp, trying to wriggle away.

“Maybe I should punish  _you_ ,” he growls.

When he doesn’t let you go, you wrap your arms around him instead, still laughing lightly. “Some other time, maybe. You already wore me out tonight.”

Very thoroughly wore you out. You’ve perked up a lot more with the shower and teasing, but you’re still nowhere near recovered enough for any more of  _that_. Anti can tell, and doesn’t push the matter. He turns off the water and helps you out, wrapping a towel around his waist and then another around you.

“You bring any pyjamas or anything this time?” Anti asks.

You nod. You brought options; a short silk nightie, or a pair of soft cotton shorts and cosy t-shirt. The former for looking nice for them, but you figured the latter might come in handy for after being thoroughly fucked and just wanting to be comfortable. You’re thankful for your own forethought, because that sounds perfect right now.

You fish the pyjamas out of your bag and place them on the bed. Anti quickly dries himself off and changes into just a pair of boxers, then returns to you with a brown glass bottle in his hand. He shoots you a wry grin. “Dark’d also be pissed if I didn’t take care of ye like I promised.” He shakes the bottle by way of explanation. “Disinfectant.”

You make a face. “Is that the horrible stingy sort?”

“Probably, I dunno. Not like I’ve tried it,” Anti shrugs. “But better than you getting an infection. ‘Specially on that deep one.”

You suppose he has a point. He probably doesn’t need to worry about things like that, but you’re only human, after all. You don’t think the scratches would be an issue, as shallow as they are, but… it’s kind of sweet. That they’d think of trying to look after you like that at all.

You wipe the last of the dampness from you and let the towel fall, settling back on the edge of the bed. It  _is_  the stingy sort of disinfectant, it turns out, and you hiss a little as Anti dabs it over each of your cuts. But it’s no worse than when he was cutting you in the first place.

There’s no point trying to cover them; the slices are too long and plasters would just be awkward, and bandages would be severe overkill. Not to mention you’d end up wrapped tighter than a mummy if you were trying to cover every single little mark he’s left on you. The thought makes you giggle.

Anti turns you around so he can get to your back; he pays more attention to the wound there. His mouth grazes over it, briefly but hotly, making your breath catch in your throat. Then he carefully wipes it down with the disinfectant as well.

He’s so unusually gentle about it, actually treating you carefully, and it makes your heart ache a little.

“There. That should do ye.”

“Thanks.” It hardly seems enough to get across your gratitude. For him caring enough to look after you; for everything. But you’re too tired to worry about it. You wriggle into your pyjamas and then crawl up the bed, burrowing into the covers. You pull them aside and hold them open in a hopeful gesture. Anti turns off the lights – bar one lamp turned down low in the corner, for when Dark returns, you presume – and obligingly joins you with a fond, amused grin on his face.

There’s no way you’re staying up waiting for Dark this time. You have no idea when he’s going to be finished with his meeting, and your body is aching and exhausted. There’ll be time tomorrow for you to spend with him.

Anti is warm and inviting, and you curl up against him with your head resting against his shoulder. You lean up just enough to lightly kiss his neck wound.

That earns you a small hiss. “Don’t start that again, ye goddamn little vampire.”

The name makes you laugh. “I wasn’t starting anything,” you promise.

And you weren’t; you’re warm and comfortable and worn out. It was only a goodnight kiss. You just couldn’t resist being a little bit of a tease about it.

You kiss him again, beneath the jaw this time, and he wraps his arm around your waist. He’s not quite touching where his name is carved into you, not now he’s just cleaned the cuts up, but his fingers hover at the edges of it, and it’s clear where his attention is.

It still stings a little – the smaller cuts are more annoying for that, all over you, and no matter where you lie you’re putting pressure on some of them. But you’re so exhausted that even the discomfort can’t keep you awake for long, and you fall asleep curled against Anti’s side.

Your rest is fitful. You end up tossing over quite a lot, instinctively trying to get more comfortable, but too tired to wake up properly. The only time you stir is when you find yourself alone in the bed – it’s still dark, just the one lamp dimly lighting the other side of the room still, and you can hear voices. Dark must be back.

They’re too quiet for you to make out what they’re saying, but it doesn’t sound particularly antagonistic. In fact, if you had to hazard a guess at anything, the low rumble of Dark’s tone sounds rather suggestive, and Anti’s being his usual flirty, teasing little shit in return.

If you’d been more awake, you would’ve been  _very_  interested in seeing what they were up to. Because there are a few noises – choked-back gasps, quiet groans – that make it start to sound like they’re doing a bit more than just talking. But that thought doesn’t even occur to you at the time, sleep already dragging you back under.

When you finally wake properly the room is lit with the pale light of early morning, and both Dark and Anti are in bed with you. Even with the generous king size bed, it’s a bit of a squash. Anti sprawls.

Dark is sitting up, reclined against a pillow propped against the headboard and casually reading through a file in one hand. Shirtless, wearing only a pair of sleep pants that sit rather low on his hips. So that’s a nice sight to wake up to.

Dark notices you stirring and runs a hand through your hair. “Good morning.”

You curl up a little tighter at his side, head resting against his thigh. “Do you even sleep?” you mutter.

Dark chuckles. “We don’t have the same need for sleep as you; we can, and it is pleasant enough, just not necessary. But yes, I did.”

You glance over at Anti, who seems absolutely dead to the world on your other side.

“Anti just enjoys being lazy,” Dark says in response to your unasked question, his lips quirking into a smile somewhere between amused and exasperated. Then his expression turns more serious. “How was he last night?”

You grin. You know what Dark is asking, but…

“ _Very_  good,” you reply in a suggestive purr, then giggle as Dark lightly swats your thigh in admonishment.

You stretch out beneath the covers, reluctantly gearing yourself up to move. “I’ll tell you about it in a sec, but I gotta go for a morning bathroom break first.”

“Of course.”

The only options for getting out are either an undignified wriggle to the foot of the bed, or clambering over either Dark or Anti. You don’t want to wake Anti, so you carefully throw your legs over Dark’s lap instead, straddling him for just a moment before sliding off the other side. He raises an eyebrow at you over his files.

Despite the small moment of teasing with Dark, you’re still sleepy and only really half-awake, and being out of bed feels like a chore. You finish up quickly, fully prepared to crawl straight back beneath the covers to curl up with Dark and Anti and just doze again – it’s only on your way out of the bathroom that you pause and return to the sink. After all, Dark’s right there, awake and in the same bed… it would be rude not to sneak in a few kisses, at least. And morning breath would suck for that, so you rinse your mouth out as well before leaving.

When you get back, you find Dark’s put his paperwork aside and is waiting for you. He gestures you over with one finger and you obediently climb back into his lap, laying forward against his chest.

His hands slide down your thighs. “Let me see,” he says, and you realise he’s inspecting the cuts Anti’s left on you.

“Anti was sweet,” you say, serious now, in answer to the question Dark had intended before you left. You decide not to mention the brief murder threats. “He took good care of me, I promise.”

Your pyjama shorts ride high enough that almost all of the marks on your thighs are visible, but Dark has to push up your top to see the rest. The contact of his cool fingers running up your sides makes you shiver.

He pauses over the larger wound on your back, lightly brushing the edges of it. “Ah, yes. Anti mentioned this.”

You duck your head, face flushing a little. Partially because of embarrassment at being called out on it, partially because you’re still not quite over your delight at being marked with Anti’s name like that.

“We… may have got a  _little_  carried away. But it was very much mutual.” You can’t help but notice Dark’s frown, though. “Are you upset?”

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a breath and visibly forcing himself to let go of his tension. “I apologise, dear. It just makes me feel somewhat possessive to see another man’s claim on you like that. Even if it is only Anti, and we did agree to share.”

“Should I get him to carve your name into me as well next time?” you suggest. Only partially joking.

Dark’s expression twitches into a small half-smile. “I wouldn’t be  _entirely_  opposed to that. However, I think you’ve been cut up enough for the time being.”

Seemingly satisfied with his inspection, Dark lifts you and lays you back down on your side on the bed next to him, letting you burrow back beneath the covers. He lies down properly as well, face to face with you, and drapes his arm around your waist in a loose embrace.

You curl closer, legs tangling with his and your head resting against his chest. There’s a sleepy, content smile on your face. It’s just so… casually affectionate, and it makes your chest ache.

They shouldn’t make you this stupidly, unthinkingly happy; they really shouldn’t. If you had any sense at all, you’d at least  _try_ to keep your guard up.

But all it takes is Dark kissing your forehead to make you melt all over again. You tilt your head up and kiss him on the lips in return.

Dark quickly takes over the kiss, but there’s nothing demanding in it. It’s soft, sleepy, for the pleasure of it and nothing else. Dark’s hands are the same, caressing along your back just for the enjoyment of the contact.

It’s so nice. Not that you don’t like rough; you’re  _very_ into rough. But the combination is the best of both, the rough followed by gentle affection to bring you down afterwards. And so nice being able to spend time with Dark too. You like both of them, and as much as you  _definitely_  enjoyed your time with Anti, it’s never quite the same as when they’re both there.

You express this sentiment to Dark between kisses, and Dark smirks. “You prefer having both of us… how greedy.”

“I didn’t mean like  _that,_ ” you laugh. Although… like that is good too. The idea of having both their cocks at the same time makes you squirm.

Dark seems to agree; when he kisses you again, there’s definitely more heat behind it than before.

You moan softly and yield beneath his touch. It’s still not demanding, no pressure behind it, but it’s suggestive enough to have your face flushing.

God, it’s good. Just sleepily making out with him; slower than usual, more sensual than outright sexual. His tongue stroking inside your mouth with a languid thoroughness that makes your knees feel weak. His hands all over you, still just a caress, exploring your hips and waist and sides. The process pushes your top up until you find yourself with bare breasts pressed against his chest.

He has you feeling so warm already. “Dark,” you murmur against his lips.

It doesn’t have to go anywhere. You could just keep making out for the pleasure of making out. There’s no rush. But at the same time, you kind of love the idea of sleepy, sensual, morning after sex.

He rolls you over onto your back, hovering above you. You grin, and he leans down and kisses you again. He’s not bearing his weight down on you, not entirely, but he’s pressed closed enough that you can feel his growing hardness against your thigh.

You wrap your arms around Dark’s shoulders and roll your hips against him with a quiet moan of pleasure. It feels good for you too. It’s not an aching, desperate need, but… yeah, you can’t deny the heat seeping through you. You want him.

Dark kisses you a few more times, less tender and moving more towards passionate now. One last kiss to warn you, then he pulls away and reaches for the bedside table. They’ve had the forethought to stock the top drawer with condoms. Probably figured you’d need them.

It kind of makes you laugh, wondering how many you’re going to end up getting through. It’s not like you normally have a very active sex life; you’ve not seen anyone since being with them last, and even before that it had been a long time since your last relationship. So maybe you’re making up for lost time a little.

That, and the stupid dumb practicality of it. For being demons, it makes them seem a little more human.

Dark pauses before opening the wrapper. “Do you want to—”

You interrupt with a laugh. “Um,  _yes_ ,” you say. He’s definitely not been reading the signals wrong.

Dark kisses you and tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth. “No need to be cheeky about it,” he admonishes lightly.

“You love a bit of sass. Why else would you have stuck with Anti so long?”

Dark only taps the side of your thigh again – there’s not enough strength behind it to call it a spank, really, but it still stings a little because of the cuts and makes you squirm all the same.

“I’m kidding. It’s sweet you wanna check, but just  _do me_  already.”

“Greedy  _and_  demanding,” Dark murmurs, but there’s an amused light in his eyes.

He pushes his sleep pants down over his hips, and your eyes are drawn hungrily to what lies beneath. You kick your own pyjama shorts off while Dark rolls the condom on, and then he settles between your legs. Your knees naturally fall into place to frame his hips on either side, and you reach up to wrap your arms around his shoulders again. The anticipation makes your heart flutter.

Dark slowly sinks into you, and your breath rushes out in a heady gasp. Fuck. Even after seeing him, you kind of forgot just how damn big he is. The way he stretches you open, inch by blissful inch, feels absolutely delicious.

“Mm, Dark…” you sigh. You lock your ankles behind the small of Dark’s back as he buries himself all the way into you, as deep as he can get. He stays there a moment, allowing you a moment to breathe and adjust. Fuck. He’s so thick and hot and hard, and he makes you feel so  _full._

Then he starts to move, and you moan. Slow, unhurried. Just rocking into you, his cock stroking you inside more than thrusting hard, but you’re perfectly happy with the pace.

You lazily roll your hips up to meet him. It might not be as rough as usual, but all it takes is a little shift of his angle and suddenly his cock is grinding right up against your sweet spot, and you can’t help the whimper that bursts from your lips.

“Ohh,  _fuck_. There, just like that, Dark,  _please_ ,” you gasp.

Dark smirks, so damn smug at being able to get that much reaction from you even when he’s barely doing anything. “Good?” he asks. As if it’s not already obvious.

“ _So_  good.”

He picks up the pace a bit, the intensity rising. Not too much more; just a little faster, a little harder. You want to moan, but—damnit, you have to remember Anti’s right there sleeping beside you, you can’t make too much noise.

Of course, Dark takes that as a challenge, and now that he knows where you’re most sensitive he grinds his cock against your sweet spot mercilessly. Every shallow thrust sends heated waves of pleasure through you, building and building until it leaves you flushed and panting. And all you can do – all you want to do, really, because you wouldn’t change a damn thing right now – is lie there and roll your hips into every thrust, taking him as deep as you can. Sleepy and malleable and so receptive for him.

His lips are against yours, tongue in your mouth, gently devouring you. He has one hand gripping your waist and the other tangled into your hair, and your arms around him hold him close. Clinging to him as he works you steadily, inevitably, towards your orgasm.

You murmur his name senselessly, over and over in breathless adoration, until his mouth claims yours again and he swallows the sound of your moans as you come.

Dark stays buried deep inside you, rolling his hips against you. Drawing the pleasure out, leaving you trembling with desire and your fingers twitching and clawing at his back. He keeps thrusting, shallowly but quicker now, until you feel his cock twitch and buck inside you, and—fuck. You purposely clench down around him, and the sound of his low, empathetic groan of pleasure makes you shiver in delight.

You stay like that, locked together and Dark’s mouth languidly brushing against your lips, your jawline, your cheekbones. Slowly coming down from your respective highs, until Anti interrupts.

“Well, shit,” he drawls, “if I didn’t already have morning wood, I sure would now.”

You start, head jerking back in surprise – you hadn’t noticed him waking up at all. In your defence, you’d been a little preoccupied.

“ _Anti,_ ” you protest mildly.

“So, you gonna help a guy out, or…?”

Okay. You giggle at that.

“Really, Anti,” Dark sighs with exasperated fondness. But his expression is entirely wicked.

Dark slides his softened cock out of you, and you can’t help but groan quietly at the loss. He gets out of bed just long enough to dispose of the condom, then goes around to Anti’s side and pulls the covers back.

“Hey!” Anti gripes in the sudden cold. His protests are abruptly cut short as Dark hooks his fingers into the waistband of Anti’s boxers and pulls them down, and then Dark’s mouth is on Anti’s hard cock.

Your eyes widen, surprised yet delighted by this abrupt turn of events. “Damn…”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Anti agrees, hips bucking into Dark’s mouth. Apparently he hadn’t expected Dark to be so immediately indulgent either.

And Dark is… ‘damn’ is still all you can think, honestly. He looks good with Anti’s dick in his mouth. He looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing, too.

Anti tosses his head back, eyes clenched shut and lips parted. The flush rising to his face is clearly visible, chest heaving as he struggles to remember how to breathe when he’s balls-deep down Dark’s throat. His clawed fingers tangle into Dark’s hair and mindlessly shove him down until Dark grunts, but he doesn’t seem to mind all that much.

You can’t stop staring. The arch of Anti’s back, the helpless pleasure written all over his face. The way Dark’s fingers clutch at Anti’s thighs, the slick stretch of his lips wide around Anti’s cock.

God, they look so damn good together.

Anti wasn’t kidding about the morning wood; he must have already been pretty damn turned on, because it’s not long until he’s gasping out a warning to Dark. Dark snorts a muffled laugh, clearly not intending to let Anti go until he’s sucked him dry.

“Fuck,  _Dark_ ,” Anti groans, his voice glitching as his control slips.

The sight of Anti’s orgasm face is also a very nice one to be greeted by early in the morning.

Dark keeps licking and swallowing around Anti’s over-sensitive dick until Anti growls and shoves him off. He moans as Dark lets his cock finally slide free, with a few last licks and kisses for good measure. Dark runs his tongue over his lips to catch the last few drops of Anti’s seed, looking as smugly arrogant as anything, and it makes your stomach flip just to watch.  _Damn_.

Anti covers his face with his arm, actually kind of out of breath and speechless for once.

You laugh and shift closer, curling against him and pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Good morning,” you say.

“Heck yeah, it is,” Anti eventually agrees, still panting.

It’s still early enough that you really don’t need to get out of bed or go anywhere just yet. And, warm and sleepy and satisfied, you’re perfectly happy to stay lazing around for a while longer.

Dark returns to his original position on your other side and brushes his lips against the back of your neck as he sandwiches you between them. “So, dear. What would you like to do today?”

Oh. You hum, vague and non-committal. Your brain is still a little overheated; from being fucked yourself, and from watching Anti like that. You certainly haven’t thought that far ahead.

“We could just stay like this,” Anti suggests. “In bed. Havin’ some fun.” There’s a thoroughly suggestive grin on his face, and you can’t help but snicker.

You  _could_. That’s certainly an option. And a very appealing one. Yet at the same time, you don’t want them  _just_  for sex. You only have a limited amount of time together, and you could definitely spend it fucking and absolutely enjoy the everloving shit out of that. But you also want to just… spend time with them. Like the dates, the dancing. Hanging out. Teasing each other. Getting to know them, as much as they’ll let you.

“Mm. Later, for sure. But… maybe we could go out somewhere first?”

“Anywhere you like,” Dark offers.

You weren’t expecting it to have to be your choice. So far Dark’s always been the one calling the shots, and it leaves you floundering trying to think of something to do. Honestly,  _what_  you do doesn’t matter. You just want to be with them.

You don’t even know L.A. all that well, and you’ve never been such a huge fan of the city itself. Somewhere nicer, somewhere chill.

“I don’t mind that much. Maybe just. The beach or something, Santa Monica pier?” It’s a cliché sort of date idea, but you can’t think of anything better on such short notice. “Only as long as you really have nothing better to do, though.”

“Ooh. Beach,” Anti says. Just from the tone of his voice, you already know he’s going to get up to mischief.

“That sounds pleasant enough,” Dark agrees.

“Mm. Later, though,” you murmur, yawning. You’re more than content just to stay in bed and doze some more, tangled together with them beneath the covers. And then you really need another shower before going out anywhere, plus getting dressed, and that all still sounds like far too much effort.

Anti’s fingers lightly massage against your scalp, your head resting against his shoulder. And Dark presses against you from behind, arm draped over you and his hand covering yours. Yeah, you’re good just staying like this for a while longer.

After all, you’ve still got the whole day ahead of you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being 29,000 words long. I have a problem and apparently it's being addicted to this damn universe, ugh.
> 
> Ended up being not a huge amount of kinky shit in this chapter, just a little bit of spanking and bondage. And Dark being all possessive and shit, but that kinda comes with the territory anyway.
> 
> There's also some actual emotions and stuff that get brought up! Minor angst! (But it's all still mostly fluff and smut.) Be warned that the reader character does have a mild sort of panic attack at one point, and tries to have an emotional breakdown about four things at once. Which was a huge pain in the ass to balance enough time for addressing each issue, but heh, ain't that just the way life goes.

You end up staying in bed far longer than you meant to. It’s just so hard to want to get up when you’re warm and satisfied and comfortable, lying beside Anti with your legs tangled together, head resting against his shoulder while you drift in and out of dozing. His fingers graze over you – mainly over your thighs, your sides, where all the little cuts are left littered. There’s a smug amusement as his nails catch against them, and your mutter something annoyed in your half-awake daze.

He’s so damn pleased with himself at having marked you up, and, honestly? You love it too. His. Theirs.

Dark isn’t one for wasting so much time lazing about doing nothing, but he’s indulged you by bringing his paperwork and laptop and sitting in bed to work, his comforting presence on your other side.

You stretch out and roll over, nuzzling your head against his hip. “Morning, Dark.”

“Good morning. Again.”

“Hush. I need sleep time to recover after Anti fucked the hell out of me last night.”

“Oh, ye loved it,” Anti claims, and you grin. He’s not wrong.

Dark doesn’t try overly hard to keep a straight face, allowing his amusement to show in the slight raise of his eyebrow.

“What are you working on?” you murmur to Dark. Just lightly. You tilt your head towards the laptop, more a gesture of what you’re asking about than trying to see the screen. Neither of them have ever been overly forthcoming about what they actually _do_ , outside of the very rare video appearance as a ‘favour’ that Mark and Jack will probably pay for dearly someday. You kind of understand. There’s probably a lot of… less than savoury stuff involved. Not so much here, since they don’t even spend that much time in your world, but the other dimensions they’d mentioned, where they were in charge… it probably wasn’t pleasant.

But at the same time, you wish they would open up more to you. Whatever Dark is doing here and now, with just paperwork full of numbers and accounts and a lot of sending emails, doesn’t seem like it could be _too_ terrible. It’s an opening, at least.

You don’t necessarily expect an answer, prepared to back off again if Dark doesn’t want to talk. For a moment, it seems like he won’t – he spends a little too long evaluating his screen, and then you in turn.

He apparently decides that, in this case at least, there’s no harm in you knowing.

“A minor business project. Much like how this little game of ours here toying with our counterparts is nothing more than an amusement; a hobby, if you will. I have all the power I will ever need and more, but it is simply enjoyable to dabble in something with such low stakes for once.”

You raise your head a little higher, resting it on Dark’s lap so you can see the screen. You blink. There are generic looking emails to clients cluttered on the screen, but also… “Games?”

Dark smiles. “I back a large number of indie developers, of varying scale – anonymously, of course. The larger ones that do well make a decent amount of revenue in shares and cover the shortfall of the ones that don’t.”

You give him a suspicious look. “There is no way that’s the only reason you’re doing it.”

His smile widens into something a little more unsettling. “Of course. I also provide marketing… I am _very_ good at getting people to react and interact the way that I wish them too. Anti occasionally provides additional assistance in hacking the algorithms of various sites to work to our advantage. It is hardly difficult to make whatever I choose go viral.”

There’s a lot to process there. But you look to Anti first. “You’re in on this?”

Anti only shrugs, wearing a firmly shit-eating grin. “Hardly. He jus’ asks me to glitch out a thing or two every now and then, an’ I make sure it’s worth my while.”

“What, he pays you?”

“He lets me top the everloving shit out of him without complaining like a goddamn control-freak dicklord the entire time.”

You attempt to choke back your laugh, only to end up snorting and coughing inelegantly.

“Thank you for that input, Anti,” Dark says.

“Okay, but why bother with any of that?” you ask, voice still a little shaky as you try to smother your giggles.

Dark looks you dead in the eye, expression serious but the little tilt of his lips betraying his amusement. “How much anger and suffering has Mark been subject to at the hands of mediocre rage games that, due to their unusual pervasiveness in his community spheres, he has been almost obligated to play?”

“…oh my _god_.” So much for getting your laughter under control; that makes you immediately crack up again. “That is the most ludicrously petty thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” you wheeze.

“Simple pleasures,” is all Dark says, which makes you laugh even harder.

You kiss Dark firmly on the mouth. “I laugh because I love you. And that’s hilarious.”

Anti snorts, thoroughly entertained by the whole exchange. “See? She gets it.”

“Alright,” Dark finally interrupts, tapping you firmly on the thigh. “We ought to get up if you actually wanted to go anywhere today.”

Ah. Right. It’s already starting to creep decidedly towards midday, and you do need to be back early in the evening to be ready for the gala. You’re only going to have a few hours out in Santa Monica at this rate.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, still grinning. You kiss Dark briefly again, then worm your way out of the bed. You need to shower and get dressed. You pick out your clothes from your bag and head into the bathroom; you don’t want to take too long since Dark’s right, you’re already pretty late as it is.

It’s only once you’ve stepped beneath the spray of warm water and process the conversation that you realise, and your blood runs cold for a second. You told Dark you loved him.

 _Fuck_.

It had just—it had just slipped out, you hadn’t thought about what you were saying, and you hadn’t meant it _that_ way (except maybe you would have); it just felt like the most natural turn of phrase to use and—

They hadn’t commented on it. They hadn’t even given any indication they’d noticed it.

You slowly allow your tension to bleed out again, letting the water wash it away. It’s okay. No harm done, right? You just need to be more fucking careful about your choice of words. Because, alright, _fine_. You can’t deny you have feelings for them. But you can’t be in love with them. You’ve only seen them twice, for Christ’s sake. (And had, what, three or four months of texting between? Almost like a long-distance relationship. So maybe it’s not so unreasonable, but—that’s not a helpful thing for your brain to be pointing out.)

At the end of the day, they’re demons. They’ve been nice, and you wouldn’t doubt that they cared about you, but… love is a bit much. Are they even capable of love the same way? You don’t want to ruin what you already have by making them uncomfortable, making them think you have any expectations for them to return your feelings or something. Because you _don’t_.

All you need is to be better at managing your own. And keeping your goddamn mouth shut.

You don’t want to spoil a gorgeous morning by getting too caught up in your own thoughts. So you shove the whole issue aside and just focus on washing.

You dry off quickly when you’re done, mindful of the shallow cuts littered all over you, and that’s something much more pleasant to think about. Proof that last night happened. Proof of how Anti had driven you out of your mind, delicately carving you apart with his knife until you were begging for him.

A little shiver of lust runs through you. Fuck, that was hot. And then Dark this morning as well...

They’re spoiling you. They really are.

Fortunately, the cuts are fairly easy to cover. Anti was good about that, keeping them out of sight. It’s only a few lower down on your thighs, almost at your knees really, that might have been visible beneath the high-waisted skirt you’d picked out. So you pair it with some patterned leggings and a soft t-shirt and decide that’ll do. Your hoodie is still out in the main bedroom; you place your hand on the door to head out and retrieve it, but something makes you pause.

Some of your brightness begins to dim. You can hear Dark and Anti talking, but it’s—

It’s hardly unexpected; personalities like theirs were bound to clash at some point, but the most you’ve ever really seen has been in playful snarking. From what you can hear through the door now, though, there’s genuine contention in their voices. Not quite an outright argument, not yet, but… you don’t want them to argue for real, especially not if it’s over something to do with you.

You tentatively slip out of the bathroom to join them, bare feet padding softly on the bedroom carpet.

“It’s not a big deal,” Anti is insisting. Both of them have already dressed as well, their usual outfits of ripped jeans and a black t-shirt for Anti and a suit for Dark, although he’s forgone the tie and left the top buttons undone for a slightly more casual look today.

“It’s not worth the risk over something so petty.”

“What risk?” Anti scoffs. “Ye realise you’re just being an overprotective ass?”

Dark's fingers twitch as he smooths down his already immaculate jacket. “It is simply unnecessary.”

“Um,” you interject. “What's this about?”

They both turn to look at you, then at each other as if trying to decide who ought to explain the situation. Dark apparently gets the honour.

“There is some deliberation over our method of transport, that’s all.”

Anti rolls his eyes. “We can travel through the void and be at the beach in two seconds, what’s the problem?”

“The _problem_ is that humans are not suited for movement through other dimensions. The journey to Santa Monica pier is under half an hour by car, do you really lack the patience to manage even that much?”

“More like a goddamn hour with traffic, you know how L.A. is. Also, we didn’t even rent a car this time,” Anti points out. “And you’re massively overexaggerating. I wouldn’t be takin’ her to other dimensions either, but the void’s just a gap between them. A li’l shortcut. Ain’t shifting realities or anything.”

“ _I don’t want her in the void_ ,” Dark abruptly snaps.

You shrink back. Although not even directed at you, hearing his anger break loose like that, auras flaring out—

You swallow, suddenly nervous about speaking up. “Dark…? Please don’t be mad, ‘cause I swear I’m not trying to disobey or undermine you or anything. I just don’t understand, and I want to. Why am I not allowed in the void?”

“It is not a pleasant place for humans.”

“We’ll be in there two fuckin’ seconds, and both of us with her,” Anti says, exasperated. “Why do you have such a stick up your ass about this?”

“I am _trying_ to protect her.”

Anti is unphased by Dark’s anger – he’s used to it, you suppose – and simply looks confused. “Uhh. From the void? C’mon, you fuckin’ know it’s not that bad.”

“From _us,_ ” Dark clarifies.

A tense silence settles as you try to process what that even means. Slowly, and with a definite level of caution, you nonetheless stubbornly approach and touch Dark’s wrist. “Why would I need protection from you? You’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

“Too nice, evidently. You forget what we are,” he says coldly.

“No. I know you’re demons, and maybe I don’t know exactly what that means or what it entails but only because you won’t _let_ me know.”

Dark growls. “There’s good reason for that, darling.”

Frustration makes you scowl at him in return. “Look, I don’t care about _what_ you are, I care about _you!_ ”

He turns to you and his hand flies up before you even have time to process what’s happening—you gasp as his fingers wrap around your throat, but it’s more from the shock of it. He catches himself almost immediately, and his grip never tightens enough to choke you. He freezes and just holds you like that, raging within himself.

“I have tried very hard to maintain a human façade for you. Why do you insist on seeking out the parts of our existence that are less palatable to your kind?”

Your heart is pounding, adrenaline pumping through your veins because _oh god he’s kind of terrifying_ , but you refuse to back down so easily. “I literally just told you that, idiot. I want to know you – the real you, demon and all, not just some mask you’re trying to keep up to protect me or whatever bullshit that is.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Well I fucking do!” The silence stretches out again, neither of you willing to give ground. Dark lets his hand fall from your throat, and you immediately move back in to wrap your arms around him. Dark looks somewhat bewildered at the sudden embrace. “Please just give me a chance?” you murmur.

You start abruptly as Anti joins you, an arm around you and Dark each. “We havin’ group hugs?” he asks, and you smile at him. Firstly, because you do appreciate the hug, but mostly because it’s done a good job at breaking the tension, which you’re pretty sure was his intent all along. You lean into him and let your head rest against his shoulder. The affection is nice; now the little moment of altercation is more or less over, you were starting to feel pretty shaky about it. You never got on well with arguments.

Dark must notice, because the last of his stubborn anger fades out into concern. “I… apologise. I only want what is best for you.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” You think you should be flattered, probably, that he cares enough to try so hard about it in the first place. Even if he went about it in a kind of idiotic way, thinking he needed to be worried about letting you see too much evidence of their true nature. Or whatever that was about.

“Sooooo. Can we travel through the void and just go already now?”

You giggle, then glance at Dark. “I’d like to see it. If that’s okay?” You’re pretty much ready to go; all you need is to grab your hoodie and pull your boots on, which you hastily do.

Dark grunts. “There’s not much to see. It’s called the void for a reason.”

“And honestly, as much of a dick as Dark was about it, he does kinda have a point. It’s trippy if you ain’t used to that shit.” Anti scoops you up in a bridal carry the second you’re done tying your laces and you yelp, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’d recommend closing your eyes, doll,” he says, grinning wickedly.

Now that even Anti is saying it like that, you’re starting to second-guess this being a good idea.

Not that you get a chance to think about backing out, because Anti’s already moving. You bury your head into the crook of his neck and close your eyes as directed. You’re glad of it; even without being able to see, it feels… _wrong_. It makes your skin crawl, and your stomach drops with the same sickening lurch as when you miscount the stairs and place your foot through a step that doesn’t exist. Only worse. It’s the entire world vanishing out from under you for a split-second.

A split-second is all it is, at least. Then you feel the warm of sunlight against your skin, and the taste of salt in the air, and enough ambient noise of people and ocean to figure out you’re exactly where you’d asked them to take you.

You keep your eyes closed and stay clinging to Anti a moment longer than strictly necessary.

“How was that?” Anti asks, grinning as he lets you slide out of his grip and to your feet. You still feel a little off and shaky about the whole thing, though it’s hard to tell if it’s because of the void or because of having witnessed Dark’s anger.

You blink in the sudden brightness, boots settling into sand. You’re next to the pier, rather than on it – too crowded up there to be appearing out of nowhere, you suppose. Here, the large sandbank mostly shelters you from view, and further behind you are steps leading up to the pier itself. Dark’s followed immediately after you; although he’s not mad anymore, he’s watching you carefully for your reaction.

“…weird,” you admit. “I see your point, it’s not _nice._ But it’s quick, and it’s not terrible when I’ve got you.”

Dark takes your hand and gently squeezes your fingers. You’re not sure if it’s a reassurance, or an apology, or some unspoken combination of both. “Shall we go up to the pier, then?”

You pause for a moment. “If it’s okay, I kinda wanted to go for a walk first. Like, along the coast down to Venice Beach and then back up, and finish at the pier?” It’s not exactly a short walk, very far from it, but that just gives you more time to spend with them.

Besides, you kind of want a chance to just clear your head. The fresh air, moving around a bit. Get rid of the lethargy from lying in so long. And you still want to just sort of… process.

That moment Dark lashed out at you – he could have seriously hurt you, and it had _scared_ you. But you’d always known that that was a very real risk, it would have been stupid to think otherwise, and in the end he had stopped himself. He cared enough to snap out of it and pull back.

Still. For the moment, it’s left you a little unsettled.

“Of course,” Dark says. He’s not letting go of your hand; you lean into him for a moment, maybe some subconscious part of you seeking affection to sooth your frayed nerves, and he kisses you lightly on the top of the head.

You walk up the beach to the main path, wide concrete lined with tall palms. It’s not overly busy; low season for tourists, at least. The weather is mediocre, as far as L.A. is concerned. It’s distinctly on the grey, hazy side, and enough of a chill that you do actually need your hoodie. But it’s still a lot nicer than the heart of the city, with the expanse of golden sand stretching so far out to your side you can barely see the ocean at all.

Dark and Anti are in human glamour again. You barely even notice how they slip between the forms anymore. But, you’re not going to lie, there is something particularly appealing about when their inhumanity is visible. That’s probably the opposite of what Dark wants you to think, but there’s no denying what your heart craves.

Dark’s still holding your hand; Anti walks on your other side, hands in his pockets, but close enough his shoulder brushes against yours every so often. He seems more or less content to lazily observe the surroundings and the other people walking by, though you get the feeling he’s nowhere near as off-guard as his casual posture would suggest.

The path leads you first past a training area, like an outdoor gym, with various pieces of metal equipment scattered across the beach. Anti snorts.

“That’s fuckin’ adorable,” he says, dripping sarcasm. There’s a small handful of body builders clustered around one area, watching each other, and that’s apparently what’s caught his attention.

You cast a confused side glance at Anti. Sure, they’re nothing compared to a goddamn demon, but… “They’re just trying their best,” you defend. Which is more than you’ve ever done when it comes to actually getting down to the gym and working out.

“Hah. Nahh, doll, that’s not what I mean. They’re tryin’ ta _show off._ They think they’re hot shit.”

Now he mentions it, and now you look closer, yeah, you see it. People with a dedication to self-improvement you admire, but Anti’s right, the guys he’s got his eyes on are just trying to one up each other, and sound like they’re being dicks about it from the jeering. There are always a few assholes in every group.

But it’s not your business, and you don’t know the situation just from a second’s outside observation, who are you to judge?

Anti’s grinning. “God, I could go fuck ‘em up so bad.”

“I think you might have a bit of an unfair advantage,” you point out.

“People like that just piss me off.”

“Everyone pisses you off, Anti,” Dark says, exasperated. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ murder ‘em,” Anti replies with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not gonna do shit. Just the idea of taking my shirt off and goin’ and one upping all of them without even trying was passingly amusing, that’s all. Yeesh.”

You laugh a little at the idea. You wouldn’t exactly _mind_ seeing Anti shirtless and demonstrating his strength, as ridiculous as the concept is. “Doesn’t that just make you the show off then?”

“Yeah, but I actually _am_ hot shit.” As if that therefore makes it totally reasonable.

Dark looks pained. “Why do I even put up with you?”

“His modesty, charm and winning personality, obviously,” you suggest.

Anti narrows his eyes at you, and you shriek as he abruptly lifts you up and tosses you over his shoulder. “Are you being _sarcastic_ about me, doll?”

“No!” you protest, squirming in his grip. You can’t deny that you love it when they manhandle you, and you just want to giggle at the teasing. But at the same time, you _are_ in public and you don’t want to make too much of a scene. “I adore your personality, put me down!”

“Oh, really?”

“…I might have been being sarcastic about the modesty.”

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

It’s difficult with the way he has you slung over his shoulder, but you manage to wriggle your way back down a little and turn enough that you can kiss the side of his face. “Your confidence is sexy though.”

“Confidence or arrogance?” Dark comments dryly.

“You have _no_ room to talk about arrogance,” Anti scoffs.

You lightly nudge Anti, wriggling again as a reminder, and he sets you back down on your feet. You brush yourself down, a little ruffled but also rather giddy. It makes your heart flutter, being tossed around by them like that.

As for their conversation – well, you’re not exactly going to deny they can both have their moments of being arrogant. But then again, arrogance implies a degree of over-confidence, and they’re both powerful enough that none of their confidence is any exaggeration.

Besides, even when Anti is a smug little shit, he’s hot as hell. And Dark… god, Dark wields his power like a weapon. But they’ve never been assholes about it, not around you; they don’t _have_ to try hard or show off. It’s the casual, understated moments that reveal their strength that really get you. How they danced with you last night, tossing you in the air like you weighed nothing at all. The way they play-fought, obviously just messing around for the fun of it, but so much strength and skill even just in that much.

They could destroy you in an instant, if they chose. That they could, but you trust them enough to believe they _wouldn’t_ and to so willingly put your life in their hands, that’s…

It’s something. Something that makes your chest tighten and your knees feel weak.

It’s far from the first time you’ve realised it, and it certainly won’t be the last, but god, you’re far too into them.

Now that you’re back on solid ground, Dark slides his arm around your waist. He’s looking at you with an amused light in his eyes, like he can guess the direction of your thoughts just from the slightly glazed, distant look on your face.

What were you even talking about?

They let the matter drop, the conversation shifting instead to pleasantries. The beach reminds you of others you used to go to when you were younger, though you always liked clambering over the rocky headlands as much as the sandy beaches themselves. Dumb shit like swimming in the ocean, making sandcastles, scaling deceptively sheer cliffs to collect pretty rocks.

(Dark and Anti look at you with concern. “And you thought that was a good idea? For a human? A _kid?_ ” “Look, I told you I have no sense of self-preservation.”)

Given how late you were leaving, and how it’s decidedly past lunchtime already, you stop at an open-air café along the oceanfront walkway. Dark doesn’t eat. You suppose it’s much like them and sleeping; they _can_ , for the enjoyment of the experience more than necessity, but it’s not strictly a requirement in the same way. Nothing on the menu catches his fancy. Anti, on the other hand, is delighted to be able to indulge in a greasy cheeseburger instead of high-end cuisine for once.

You’re happy for the less than healthy indulgence too. After all the exertion of last night and this morning, you could use something filling. Dark treats you to dessert afterwards too, and you share the small eyebrow raise and smirk of an inside joke as he hands over a bowl of chocolate ice cream to you.

Sufficiently sated, you resume your stroll, and the closer you get to Venice Beach the more the atmosphere livens. Colourful art stalls pop up at one side of the street, and an assortment of shops open up along the other. A lot are fairly generic souvenir shops, but there’s also some that are far more eclectic and interesting, such as the metalwork shop with robot characters taller than you are welded together from pieces of scrap.

Anti and Dark occasionally make comment on the things you pass, in varying degrees between dry wit and crude, depending on who started the exchange. You walk between them, grinning to yourself.

The main area of interest begins to peter out, mostly behind you by the time you reach the fishing pier. You don’t mind that it’s quieter, though; there’s only one or two lone anglers in the fishing bays along the pier’s length, and a small handful of walkers loitering. None pay any mind to the three of you, and once you reach the very end of the pier you’re entirely alone.

It’s nice out here. Surrounded by the ocean on almost every side.

Feeling bolder with no one around to watch, you raise your hand to touch Dark’s face – or, as it looks like then, too much like Mark’s. You can still tell the difference, in subtle signals such as the way he holds himself, his expression, his body language. Definitely the way he talks. But it’s nonetheless a little weird, when you actually stop to pay attention to it. He only uses the glamour when you’re out, and there’s usually enough other people around and plenty happening to distract from it, and that’s fine. Easy enough to tune it out. But there’s no way you could sleep with him like that, for instance.

The more you get to know them – who they really are – the more the human disguises seem unnatural and unfitting for them.

“Take the glamour off?” you request softly. You understand if he declines; you’re still in public, after all, and even if there’s no one else around now, others could walk close enough to notice at any time.

Dark lets the illusion fade away, returning to his greyed-out, ashen skin, the faint glow of his red and blue auras warping the air. “Do you prefer this?”

“Yeah. A lot. I, um. I wanted to kiss you, but it’s weird when you look that much like Mark. I prefer you just being you.”

Anti laughs on your other side – he’s dropped his glamour too, and it’s even more noticeable with him. The claws, the point to his ears, the sharp teeth. The neck wound and glitchy static waver to the air around him. Neither of them are human.

“Y’know, that’s nice. I like that ye ain’t into those goody-two-shoes pathetic little human assholes who _happen_ to look like us.”

You giggle a little. “I mean, I _like_ them. They’re fun to watch, but they’re more… they’ve got a vibe of being the cool, supportive, sometimes dumb older brothers I never had. So it would be really weird and kind of gross to smooch them.”

“Only sometimes dumb?” Dark says doubtfully.

“You hang out with Anti, you can’t get judgemental about occasional dumb shit people do.”

“Excuse _you_ ,” Anti says, and you laugh and quickly dodge to hide behind Dark as Anti reaches out to grab you. And probably toss you over his shoulder again. Or dangle you over the edge of the pier.

Dark raises an eyebrow. “Children, please,” he says, but there’s a small smile playing at his lips.

You lean up and kiss his jaw. “Alright, but. If it’s okay to ask… why _do_ you guys look so much like them? You must have some kind of connection.”

He hesitates a long moment before answering. “I possess part of Mark’s soul.”

Oh. Dark’s being entirely serious, and the weight with which he says it suggests he’s more than a little reluctant about letting you know. All of your levity fades in an instant.

“…is Anti the same? With Sean’s soul?”

“The technicalities are somewhat different, but yes, essentially.”

Damn. What do you even say to that?

Something stupid, apparently.

“Shouldn’t you give those back at some point?”

You wince the second the words come out of your mouth. Dark snorts, but it’s less amused that usual. You’re lucky he likes you enough not to get angry at such ignorance right away.

“It is hardly by any choice of our own.”

Shit. “I’m sorry. How does that even happen? Was it like… some kind of Who Killed Markiplier backstory thing?”

He gives a humourless chuckle. “Not as such. Mark has no awareness of the specifics of the situation; that video series is simply a fictional story born of his imagination. Yet it is intriguing how certain oddly specific concepts and themes can emerge from the subconscious… No. It is difficult to explain when your worldview is so limited.”

“Try. Please? I want to understand, as much as I can.”

“You humans have no concept of what souls are. You lack the very fundamentals.”

“So _explain._ ”

Maybe you’re pushing too much. Dark is expressionless, aloof, but his auras seem more volatile than usual. You can’t even tell if he’s trying to suppress irritation or simply find the right words.

“Why?” he asks eventually.

“Because you’re important to me. I want to know about you.”

Another long pause. “The problem is that you view your world as a material existence, when all matter is merely an embodiment of energy, and that energy is inherently encoded with information. Other dimensions, for example, are less material planes of existence so much as alternative… frequencies at which the energy is interacting.”

“Oh, jeez,” Anti complains. “You _really_ gonna try and explain this shit? It doesn’t matter how or why things work, they just _do_. Like. Humans don’t need to fully comprehend the theory of goddamn relativity to get the general gist of gravity being a thing.”

“If she wants me to explain, there’s no harm in trying.”

“Waste of time,” Anti dismisses.

The corner of Dark’s mouth twitches up. “You don’t have to listen.”

“I know I probably won’t get it,” you admit, “but I’m still interested.”

“He’s just frustrated since the finer details of these concepts are beyond him too.”

“ _Oi_.”

“Hush.” Dark returns his attention to you. “A soul is energy, as anything else, with a unique… frequency, or energy signature, that defines it as belonging to that individual. You don’t have a word or concept to encompass the true nature of it. In any case, physical form is then manifest from that energy. Your quaint human notion of soul mates doesn’t truly exist; however, it is the case that the energetic frequencies of an individual can have a certain resonance with others complimentary to their own.”

You’re out of your depth already. “…alright.”

“In _very_ simplistic terms. It simply happens that a certain fraction of the energy that would be defined as ‘Mark’s’ is... hm. Are you at all familiar with quantum entanglement? The concept is similar.”

“Quantum entanglement,” you echo. You can’t say you _are_ terribly familiar with that sort of thing, beyond having heard of it.

“Inexorably linked. What was once his is now deeply and irrevocably tangled into my own energy. You can’t even call it Mark’s soul any more, in truth; it is _not_ his, it is mine, and it is intrinsic to who I am. I would not be Dark without it. It’s simply that it _happens_ that a part of my soul shares an almost identical energetic signature as Mark’s. There is no separating it because it is not separate from myself.”

“…like a cake.”

Dark raises an eyebrow at you. “I beg your pardon?”

You have to giggle a little at his expression of mild bewilderment. “It’s just a dumb metaphor I came up with. It was about the Who Killed Markiplier video, originally, but… I want to see if it fits here too. You said the general idea isn’t that different, right? ‘Cause, frankly, I’m not sure I’m getting what you’re saying, so. Let me try.”

“Alright, then. Go ahead, dear, I’m intrigued.”

“I feel like you’re patronising me a little,” you comment, lightly teasing. “But I mean. You have separate, distinct ingredients to make a cake, right? Sugar and butter and eggs and flour, whatever. But combine them together and cook them and what you end up with is something new entirely. Utterly unrecognisable as any of its components, and it’s completely impossible to ever get any of the original ingredients back out. Cake is cake, not sugar-and-butter-and-eggs-and-flour. And you’re Dark, not Dark-and-some-part-of-Mark.”

Anti sniggers. “That’s _adorable_.”

Dark considers this. “I… suppose so. Simplistic, but the basic notion is not incorrect. That’s more an irreversible molecular binding, but if you apply a similar concept to energy rather than matter… perhaps.”

Anti leans back in, much more interested in the conversation all of a sudden. “What kind of cake would Dark be?”

“I think you’re missing the point, Anti,” Dark says.

You laugh. “A super rich dark chocolate cake. With some strawberries and different fruits on top.”

“I’d eat that.”

“Firstly, I feel like you’d eat any kind of cake. Secondly, please not literally.”

“I’d eat that _out_ literally,” Anti amends, and you have to choke back an inelegant snort.

Dark is looking at the two of you with a mix of amusement and exasperation. The conversation has gotten a tad derailed, you’ll admit. But maybe that’s for the best. You still have so many questions, and probably only the barest bones of any kind of understanding, but Dark is a very private person and you’ve pried enough.

You lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you, though. For taking the time to explain.”

Dark grips your waist and lifts you up, just enough to sit you on the wooden railing along the edge of the pier. He keeps his hands there, steadying you. Your knees frame his hips, and the extra height makes you just the slightest bit taller than him. A perfect position to rest your forehead against his.

There was more you could have said. How much you appreciate his growing willingness to open up to you. How much that means to you, how much you care for them. But words are hard, and you don’t want to get too stupidly sappy in case they’re not so comfortable about that.

So instead you let him kiss you, melting into it as he prises your lips apart and thoroughly tastes every inch of your mouth. For several minutes straight.

Dark eventually draws away with a chuckle, leaving you speechless and more than a little flustered. “People,” he warns.

“Huh?” you blink dumbly, before realising he’s referring to the approach of a few walkers heading up the pier. Dark and Anti seamlessly return their glamours to place, and Dark helps you down.

“We should start heading back anyway,” he says, and you nod your agreement.

It’s already taken you quite a while to get this far; an hour of casual strolling, plus even longer with your stop for food and the pause at the end of the pier. And you’re conscious of the time for the upcoming gala steadily drawing nearer. Not that you’re worried about being late at all; you can travel back through the void with Dark and Anti at any point, that’s not a problem. It’s more… the gala itself.

You’d rather focus on your time together with the two of them than be nervous about that, though. Instead of walking back the way you came, you decide that it would be nice to walk along the beach, right down by the water’s edge.

You take your boots off and roll your leggings up to your knees, so you can feel the sand beneath your feet and let the last little reach of the ocean’s waves wrap around your ankles. Anti kicks of his boots as well; Dark doesn’t take off his shoes, but he does remove his jacket and roll up the sleeves of his shirt, and you’re struck again by the realisation that damn, he looks utterly gorgeous. Those forearms, his strong hands… fuck. They just make you desperate to be pinned down by him whenever you see them. But that’s something for this evening, perhaps.

Anti shoves his boots at Dark for him to hold while Anti joins you at the ocean’s edge. Dark merely rolls his eyes, and then the boots are gone. Anti’s, and yours, and Dark’s jacket. Casually placed aside into – you assume – the void, or some alternative dimension Dark can access.

It’s a small gesture, but it makes you so happy that Dark’s getting comfortable with casual, thoughtless demonstrations of his capabilities after your argument about it earlier. It feels like he trusts you more, and that makes your heart swell.

Anti doesn’t seem to care in the slightest about getting his jeans wet. He walks beside you, unflinching when the waves splash up his calves; he’s more interested in teasingly kicking the water up at you to make you laugh and shriek. He picks you up and spins you round, threatening to toss you in, then cackles when you cling to him.

“Anti!” you half-heartedly complain; you’re smiling too much for the protest to have any weight behind it whatsoever.

Anti grins, eyes alight with mischief. “Wanna see something super fucking cool?”

“…I am _highly_ suspicious, but alright. Just don’t dunk me in the ocean.”

His gaze darts back up the beach, checking for the presence of any other people around. The tide is low, and a huge sandbank cuts off the main beach from the ocean’s edge almost the entire way along, leaving you hidden from sight down here. Anti catches Dark’s eyes and simply smirks; he’s not asking for permission for whatever he’s about to do, because he’s going to do it regardless, but Dark resignedly waves his hand in a gesture for Anti to go ahead anyway.

You don’t have time to worry about what on earth he has planned. Anti abruptly lifts you again and throws you, much the same way as when you were playfighting last night, directly out across above the water.

Fear flashes through you for one heart-stopping moment – and irritation; you explicitly said you didn’t want to end up in the water, damnit – before Anti glitches over to catch you. _Above_ the water.

The momentum pushes you a little further back, but he has you held safely in his lap. Only—your eyes widen in shock. There’s a moment there that you forget to breathe, because what the _fuck_. He’s—

Anti is sitting cross-legged, holding you across his lap, but he’s sitting _on top_ of the water. No, not quite; _floating_ just a few inches above it, far enough out beyond the waves that the surface is almost entirely still. Every hair on you body stands on end, your skin prickling and electrified by the sheer amount of static Anti is generating. His demonic form is almost vibrating with the rate it’s glitching. His eyes, normally almost luminescent at the best of times, are outright glowing and narrowed in concentration.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, awed. You uncurl one leg away from where it was pulled up against your chest and dip your toe down into the water.

He’s literally just. Holding you over the ocean.

Anti smiles at you, baring his teeth with the effort. He leans in and kisses you, incredibly briefly but making up for that with how heated and immediately rough it is. Enough so to make your head spin and a shock of lust curl through your gut.

You don’t have the time to reorient yourself before you’re in the air again – Anti repeats the process in reverse, tossing you and then glitching ahead to catch you on the shore. He wobbles, drained from the exertion, and you end up tumbling into the sand and rolling together until you find yourself sprawled on the beach with Anti on top of you.

“What the hell was _that?”_ you ask, breathless.

Anti’s panting heavily, the first time you’ve ever seen him really strain to do anything. But he’s also incredibly damn smug and pleased with himself. “Negative ionic charge,” he says between deep breaths. “Generated enough to repel against the ocean’s.”

“That’s… holy shit,” you murmur again. Of course, you knew they were capable of some amazing feats, being demons and all, but that was _not_ one you were expecting. He’s absolutely taken your breath away.

Anti leans down and kisses you – not quite as intense as when you were out on the water, but it lasts a lot longer this time. You reach up and tangle your hands into his hair, moaning softly.

“Are you done?” Dark asks, interrupting you. He doesn’t sound impatient or annoyed, though. Despite himself, and despite how thoroughly unnecessary the whole spectacle was, you can tell he’s impressed with Anti as well.

Anti rolls off you and flops down into the sand at your side instead; Dark sits at your other side with significantly more grace.

“That was incredible,” you inform Anti. “I had… no idea you could do anything like that.”

“Neither did I until I tried it just now,” he replies with an utterly shit-eating grin.

“You—Anti! What if it hadn’t worked?”

He just laughs. “Have some faith in me, doll.”

You shake your head, but you’re grinning as well. “You’re something else,” you say.

“That _was_ a very impressive and inventive manoeuvre,” Dark agrees. “If blatantly showing off.”

It’s amusing to think about, really. Anti _is_ showing off, there’s no doubt about that, but Dark has been as well. Just in much more subtle ways. The fancy restaurant dates, dancing with you last night. It’s almost as though Anti’s trying to one-up him, as if they have to compete for your affection. Sweet, but entirely unnecessary. Don’t they know you’re already theirs and you adore them both?

You take Anti’s hand and tangle your fingers together.

Dark looks down at the two of you with a wry expression. “We barely walked ten minutes; do you really require another break already?”

“Let’s see you fuckin’ walk on water an’ not need a sec after,” Anti shoots back.

“That’s fair. However, we don’t have the most amount of time left.” It seems Dark’s thoughts have followed along the same path as yours regarding how long there is left before the gala.

Butterflies churn in your stomach at the reminder.

“I… don’t mind,” you say slowly. “I know you have to get back, but it doesn’t bother me so much if I’m late for the big event part.”

“Huh? I thought ye were lookin’ forward to it? You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“Mm. You guys aren’t going to be there, though. Dark’s got to do his part, and you’re not coming, so. I dunno, it shouldn’t really bother me, it’s not like I don’t go places and do everything by myself all the time anyway. I can go and still have fun on my own.”

“But it is bothering you,” Dark says.

“You spoil me. I just get a taste of what it’s like to enjoy spending time around people I trust and care about, and abruptly going back after that is just a little lonely at first, that’s all.”

“Will there not be people there you can converse with?”

“Well, yeah, I’m just… not so good at that.”

Anti scoffs. “You were fine with us.”

“It’s not that I can’t talk to people; I’m okay at being friend _ly_ , just not actually making friends. I—I don’t really know how to connect to anyone anymore. You guys are the first people I’ve felt any actual honest attachment to in a very long time. Being with you makes me _happy_. But other people are just draining.”

Anti rolls over and props himself up on his elbow, looking at you intently. “Who do I need to murder?” he asks abruptly, in absolute seriousness.

“Wh-what?!”

“Did someone hurt you? To make you afraid of people like that? I’ll fuckin’ kill them.”

“Anti! Jeez. No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just stupid and awkward, it’s not—”

“Gimme the names of your exes. I’ll track ‘em down.”

“ _Anti_. None of them did anything wrong; _I_ broke up with them because of pretty much that. Struggling to connect on the same level they wanted. I liked them a lot, but just. I couldn’t love them the same way, and I was the asshole who started getting lowkey resentful of spending so much time on someone I wasn’t _that_ into and that wasn’t fair on them at all so—look, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need you to murder anyone, okay? It’s fine, I swear.”

You’re babbling a little, but Anti has such an angry, murderous expression on his face that you don’t doubt he’d follow through on in threat, and you’ll say as much as you have to in order to talk him down.

Dark gives a low, thoughtful hum, and you immediately turn to him and cut him off before he can speak.

“It’s not important,” you insist. “This is just… being human. We’ve all got some baggage or are messed up in some way; in the grand scheme of things I’m doing damn well for myself compared to a lot of others. I’m comfortable with the way things are. Getting a little nervous over the gala doesn’t mean anything.”

The corner of Dark’s mouth twitches up into a small half-smile. “Your insistence is sweet. But we don’t mind listening if you wish to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I do not believe that.”

“I’m not gonna burden you with my stupid little human worries. I already said, it’s not even like it’s something that bothers me. I’m fine by myself.”

Dark suddenly takes your wrists and pins them against the sand on either side of your head, leaning over you with an intensity in his eyes that makes your heart skip. “Do you not think it’s fair that our agreement goes both ways?” he asks.

“…what?”

“You were particularly adamant that we allow you to ‘get to know us’. As the demons we really are, without any façade. How then is it fair that you continue to wear your own masks?”

“Dark, I…” You hadn’t even considered it like that. You’ve already told them plenty, about your life, about yourself, and assumed that was enough. But he’s right. In a way. You’ve never really opened about anything serious; why would you? “You’re _demons_ , though. Why on earth would you care about pathetic human shit like that?”

He laughs, although the sound of it isn’t particularly warm. “Now, what was it you said earlier? ‘I don’t care what you are, I care about you’? Hypocrisy doesn’t suit you, my dear.”

You have to swallow a lump in your throat, your chest feeling far too tight all of a sudden. If you’re reading through the lines right—you knew they cared for you to some degree, but the way Dark’s talking makes it sound like he cares more than you anticipated. Far more.

It’s the difference between caring about you on the surface, as someone fun to be around and a good lay, and caring about you in all your weakness and ugliness and vulnerabilities as well. The former you were comfortable with. The latter makes you feel like you’re going to cry.

“Darling?” Dark murmurs. His hand shifts from your wrist to cup your face instead.

“I’m sorry. I’m okay.”

Anti gives the two of you a suspicious look. “Am I gonna have to murder Dark for upsetting you too?”

You giggle, the sound of it still a little choked. “No. I’m just—not used to anyone caring that much. You caught me off guard is all.”

“I still think there’s someone I should murder.”

“Anti, _no_.”

“Not all problems can be solved with murder,” Dark agrees.

“Yeah, but it damn well helps ye feel better about it.”

You laugh, then hesitate for a long, drawn-out moment. “…I did think about it,” you admit. You’ve never told anyone at all before, but somehow it doesn’t seem so terrible in the face of two demons. “Killing them. It’s weird. I never felt any real vitriol towards them – all my hatred was turned inwards, I guess, they fucking made sure of that – and I would never have gone through with it, but I used to just… imagine pushing them in front of a train, or something. Erase them, erase the past, erase all of it.”

“Which ex?” Anti asks, voice hard. “Who made you hate yourself? Give me a name.”

“ _Anti_. It’s fine. This was like, a fucking decade ago. Not an ex, just a shitty friend break-up. And it’s obvious now that we _needed_ it, we were utterly terrible for each other. I don’t resent them for it or anything, I’m past all that.” You pause again and shake yourself. “God, I haven’t even thought about that in years. Why am I even telling you this? This wasn’t how this conversation was meant to go.”

Dark smiles, and his lips gently ghost against yours. “Better,” he says. “You don’t have to hide from us.”

It still makes you feel… vulnerable. Unsettled. Opening up about things you feel should be utterly insignificant to them. So instead of talking further, you kiss Dark back. It’s easier than trying to deal with your feelings. And you do appreciate the amount of interest and willingness to listen they’ve shown; you don’t know how to express it out loud, so you pour all your gratitude into the kiss.

You wrap your arms around Dark’s shoulders, clutching at him as the kiss quickly becomes heated and passionate. But not long-lived – Anti interrupts with and huff and a pointed cough, and you grin as Dark pulls away and Anti immediately swoops in to kiss you as well.

Between the two of them, you end up absolutely breathless all over again.

“Alright,” Dark finally says. “The original point remains; we do not have the longest amount of time available. We should get a move on if you wanted to spend any time at Santa Monica.”

You don’t really mind hugely; as long as you’re there with them, anything is fine. And you wouldn’t _complain_ about lying on the beach making out. But you obligingly push yourself to your feet and brush the sand off yourself.

Dark wraps an arm around you, giving you a devastating smile as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. He’s—damnit, he’s good. If you weren’t already addicted to them, that little interlude would have had your heart hooked for sure.

God. It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything like this, being so completely head-over-heels for anyone. And it’s terrifying, and wonderful, and there’s nothing really you can do about it anyway other than enjoy it while it lasts.

Because you can’t lie to yourself; the more it feels like they care about you, that there’s almost some chance of this working out as a real thing, the more scared you are of losing all of it. So you hold their hands, Dark and Anti on either side of you, and just. Breathe.

Some of the grey haze has cleared, the mid-afternoon sun washing over the beach and bathing it in warmth. The sand stretches out in front of you as far at the eye can see, and Anti is impatient already.

“How freakin’ far is it back?” he complains. It reminds you of a child whining ‘are we there yet’ on a car journey, and you laugh.

“It took us an hour to get as far as we did; it will take the same amount of time to return,” Dark says, with far more patience than Anti has.

“…Alright, look. Beach is pretty an’ shit, but I’ve had my fun messing around and I can’t be bothered to jus’ walk for that long. Unless you _really_ wanna hang around for whatever reason, I vote we just take a shortcut through the void back to the pier.”

You grin. “I’m good, I’ve had my fill of beach too.” You’re pretty sure you have sand in your hair from tumbling around with Anti when he caught you after the little ocean experiment.

Dark, however, doesn’t seem quite so enthused about the plan. “Just because I will allow _some_ void travel in necessary circumstances does not mean I think it’s a good idea to use it constantly on any whim.”

“Whatever,” Anti says, then scoops you up. You yelp and wrap your arms around his neck. “Catch us if ye can, old man.”

“Anti—” you attempt to protest. Too late.

Your stomach flips and the world drops out from beneath you. You didn’t even have time to close your eyes. Not that there’s anything to see, other than a darkness so deep it feels like it would devour the first hint of light that dared disturb its utter completion. Yet you still feel like there’s something there beyond your vision. Something beyond your comprehension, and if you had the ability to see it amongst the endless black it would drive you insane to even gaze upon it.

You really don’t like the void very much.

Anti lets you down onto the beach where you emerge – it looks like much the same place as you’d appeared upon your first arrival – and you find yourself abruptly sinking to your knees in the sand. Your legs were shaking too much to hold you up. Oh. You hadn’t even realised.

Dark’s already there; for all Anti’s taunts of ‘catch us if you can’, Dark either beat you there or arrived instantaneously. He grips Anti’s hair and tugs his head back harshly.

“That was utterly irresponsible,” Dark snaps.

“Ouch! Cut it out, I was jus’ playin’ around.”

Dark grits his teeth and releases Anti with a shove. “ _Think_ before you act. She wasn’t ready.”

“I-I’m okay,” you say. Your teeth are chattering.

Dark helps you to your feet, and you find yourself automatically leaning your weight into him. Partially because you’re still shaky, and partially there’s something incredibly comforting about the way his auras brush against your skin. More so than usual; it’s like they’re actively reaching out, washing away the lingering sensation of the void that you hadn’t even realised was clinging to you.

“Did you even remember to use your own energy to shield her that time?” Dark says.

Anti scowls and says nothing, and Dark sighs.

“I’m okay,” you insist again. “No harm done.”

Dark hesitates for a long moment, gradually relaxing a little as you recover and the colour returns to your face. “None now. But one day there might be.”

Anti’s fingers twitch by his side. He’s definitely avoiding looking at Dark, and having trouble looking at you. “Sorry,” he mutters. It’s obvious he’s uncomfortable and unused to having to apologise for anything; the fact he’s even making the effort, for _you_ , is oddly endearing. “Shoulda… asked or whatever. Forget humans ain’t so used to the void and shit.”

You leave Dark’s embrace and tightly hug Anti instead. He blinks in surprise, not sure what to do with the abrupt affection.

“I’m fine. It’s fine. I would… prefer if you did warn me before doing that again, but I’m not upset or anything. Thanks for apologising.”

“Oh. Sure. …yer welcome, I guess?”

Dark huffs a short, wry laugh. His amusement at Anti’s discomfort and awkward attempts at an apology seems to have, momentarily at least, outweighed his anger at Anti’s initial recklessness. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten an apology from you so quickly. Normally it’s like pulling teeth.”

“That’s ‘cause you always gotta be an ass about it,” Anti grumbles.

“Why don’t we just go up to the pier?” you suggest. “That’s what we came for, right?”

“Sure thing, doll.” Anti seems glad for the excuse to get away from the conversation and leads the way towards the stairs leading up.

You go to follow immediately after him, but Dark takes your hand to stop you. You turn to him in surprise.

“I apologise also,” he says, voice low, “for snapping at Anti. I know it must be uncomfortable to witness. I simply find myself… protective of you, and it would pain me greatly to have you harmed because of a moment of thoughtlessness on his part.”

“It’s okay,” you say, giving him a soft smile.

They’re both demons, at the end of the day. You know that, you’ve known it all along, and you know they’re never going to be perfect at the whole emotion thing. But they’re _trying_ , it really feels like they are, and you’re convinced their hearts are in the right place. Anti apologising so readily, and Dark wanting to protect you. They care.

They care, don’t they?

Dark returns your boots to you as you reach the steps, and you try to brush the sand from your feet as best you can before pulling them back on. Anti doesn’t bother, apparently feeling no qualms about simply wandering around barefoot. You wish you’d thought to do that too; it’s only a pier, after all, probably not the weirdest place to walk about with no shoes. Not that you should care about what people would think over something so insignificant.

You have to admire Anti’s self-confidence and how little he gives a shit over what others think of him. You could use some more of that. Of course, it’s probably because he has the capacity to simply murder them if they rub him the wrong way, but that aside.

As morbid as the thought is, you find yourself grinning.

Anti responds in kind, smirking back at you as you head into the crowds. It’s busier here than the rest of the walk; not _packed_ to the point of it being an irritation, but there’s a steady flow of people around.

You’re content with simply wandering, for most of the part. You pass by the rather impressive old carousel housed in a building closest to the beach end of the pier, and Dark does make the offer of paying for a ticket for you. You laugh and decline; it wouldn’t be any fun just to go on your own, and you can’t even imagine Dark or Anti on a goddamn carousel of all things. Just trying to picture it makes you crack up, and Anti ends up laughing with you when you manage to wheeze out an explanation of what has you so amused.

You pass on the rides further up the pier for more or less the same reason, although Anti seems moderately interested in the rollercoaster. It’s not big or impressive enough for him to really have any incentive to go on it though. The Ferris wheel you give some consideration – that seems like a fairly standard, romantic sort of venture – but decide to give Dark’s pride a break. He’s been indulgent of you enough already, and the boxy little cabins in bright primary colours seem somewhat childish compared to his usual refined taste.

Honestly, it’s fun enough just to take in the sights and the atmosphere with both of them by your side.

The arcade is more where the party’s at. While Dark is content to follow and simply watch the two of you, Anti is rather more enthusiastic about joining in with shooting some computerised zombies. For a time, at least. You can’t say you’re exactly _good_ at the game you picked out to play, but you don’t feel like you need to be. Anti, apparently, does. After your third game over, he’s starting to get frustrated, grumbling about dumb games lacking the satisfaction of the warmth of real blood and guts on his hands.

You _think_ he’s being hyperbolic. Mostly.

Dark steps in at that point.

Anti was by no means _bad_ at whatever zombie horror game you were playing. He was definitely on the better end of average, taking delight in pumping the twisted monsters on screen full of lead. He mowed them down with relish… until he ran out of bullets.

Dark, on the hand, is precise, calculated, and a fucking incredible shot. He waits for the perfect openings and destroys each enemy with a single headshot, taking advantage of their weaknesses.

You manage to get your character killed by staring at Dark instead of paying attention to what you’re doing, but damn. Even though he’s only playing some quaint arcade game, he has the stance, casual but powerful, and the concentration, and a quiet, smug satisfaction when he clears the level with more than enough ammo to spare.

He hands the plastic gun back to Anti and steps away from the machine, smoothing his shirt down.

“Goddamn show-off,” Anti mutters, without any real heat behind the accusation. He was pretty captivated by the performance himself.

“You of all people should know the value in being proficient in at least one weapon,” Dark says.

You’re still looking at Dark more than the screen – both you and Anti are guilty of that – and after managing to get another game over by being thoroughly distracted watching Dark simply straighten out and re-roll his sleeves, you decide to give up on throwing money at that particular game.

Wandering around the arcade, you dabble in a few more amusements, but nothing really captures your attention until you find a claw machine filled with oversized cuddly toys and beam with delight.

“Those are rigged as fuck,” Anti comments as you attempt to win a large stuffed panda.

“Shh, I know.”

He watches you fail at it a couple of times before finding the need to interfere too irresistible.

“…you want that one?” he asks, leaning over. He’s pressed right behind you, and you can feel the warmth of his body against the length of yours. It’s distracting enough you almost end up throwing your attempt worse than usual, but you eventually manage to manoeuvre the claw into a decent position.

The machine sparks slightly, groaning and whirring – it descends and jerks and the claw actually grips tightly for once. Tight enough to not let the toy slide away, like your previous attempts.

You turn to squint at Anti. “Did you glitch out the machine?”

“The dumb thing is cheatin’ ye to start with. I just evened out the playing field.” He’s got that smug little grin on his face that says he absolutely had everything to do with it.

You collect your slightly ill-gotten prize, smoothing down the soft fur of the large panda plushie you now own. You offer it to Anti. “Here. You won her.”

“Uh. Didn’t you want it?”

“I… didn’t exactly think this through, she’s a little big to be taking back on the coach with me. And I don’t really have room for an oversized plushie. What would I do with her?”

Anti snorts. “An’ what would _I_ do with it?”

“I dunno, at least you have the whole void to keep stuff in. All I have is a shitty little apartment.”

“I’m pretty sure that it’s usually meant to be the dude winning cute plushie shit for the girl in this situation,” he points out.

“Okay, just for that heteronormative bullshit you now _have_ to take her.”

“I’d use it for stabbing practice.”

You give a mock gasp and cover the toy panda’s ears. “Don’t say that! You’ll hurt her feelings.”

Dark gives a quiet chuckle. “How adorable. You seem to protest more about Anti stabbing your little toy than when he mentions stabbing actual people.”

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip as you realise Dark’s right. You’re exaggerating for humour, of course, but… you do tend to have more empathy for stuffed animals than actual other humans, which is kind of fucked up now you think about it. You’re fairly certain Dark was also joking, but at the same time his statement was more accurate than you care to admit to.

You glance down at the panda in your arms, then up at Dark. “You should take her, then,” you say. “We clearly can’t trust Anti.”

Dark quirks an eyebrow. “Why would I want a stuffed panda?”

“Because it’s a gift. You’re always paying for stuff for me, all the fancy meals out and everything, and I’ve never given you anything in return. It’s not even like this is a big deal; it’d just be nice for you to get something back, don’t you think?”

“Darling, you’ve given me yourself,” Dark replies, voice low and a crooked smile on his face.

“W-well, yes. But. Just.” You swallow, suddenly flustered. You hold out the panda to him. “…you should take her because she’s got eyes like yours, it’s cute.”

There’s a moment of silence while Anti admirably attempts to restrain himself, but he promptly ends up busting a gut anyway. His laughter is infectious, and you have to bite your lip to stop a stupid grin spreading over your face.

The corner of Dark’s mouth twitches with barely concealed amusement. “I see,” he says smoothly. He takes the panda from you and regards it, then the next moment the toy is swallowed by a flash of darkness.

You hope he just put it aside into the void and didn’t destroy the thing.

Anti catches the touch of concern in your expression, and manages to stop cackling long enough to comment, “oh, he’s fuckin’ keeping it.”

The rest of your wander around the pier is enjoyable, but relatively uneventful. Unless you count Anti insisting on calling Dark ‘panda eyes’ for the rest of your date, much to his own amusement. Dark’s less so. But Dark is more tolerant of it than you would have expected; he must be in a good mood.

It makes your heart flutter to think that spending time around you could contribute to making him happy in some way.

But it’s definitely starting to get late, afternoon turning to early evening the sun starting to sink, and you all agree you need to make your way back to the hotel and start getting ready for the gala. Dark is the one to take you back through the void this time, far more slow and deliberate about it than Anti was on either occasion. He doesn’t tend to pick you up and throw you around as much, so being lifted and held against his chest is a pleasant new experience. The way his auras caress against your skin is enjoyable too; you barely even notice the wrongness and the sickening sensation that comes with moving through the void when all your attention is on Dark.

“Thank you,” you say as he sets you back down on your feet, in the hotel room again now. You press a soft kiss to his lips. “That was a cute date, I had fun.”

Anti’s grinning just watching you. “Yer so adorable.”

You probably should have left more time to get ready – technically, the gala is already open for arrival, although no major events begin until a little later. But either way, you know you shouldn’t waste too much time.

You collect your dress, prepared to rush through a quick shower and get ready as quickly as you can – you wouldn’t have made the effort usually, since you showered in the morning and have hardly done anything too strenuous since then. It’s only because you managed to pick up quite a bit of sand that you’d rather get rid of before going out again that you’re planning to bother at all. But hearing Anti speak up stops you.

“Ye got like. A spare suit or something?” he asks Dark, and both of you turn to look at him in bewilderment.

“What for?” Dark questions, eyebrows furrowed.

Anti rolls his eyes in response to being stared at. “For the dumb gala thing, what d’you think for?”

“I thought you weren’t coming,” you say.

Anti shrugs. “Maybe I changed my mind, whatever, it’s not like it matters. I jus’ don’t exactly have anything to wear for it.”

You want to be happy about it, but there’s still something reserved in his voice, and— “Anti. You don’t have to. If you’re coming just for me, that’s a sweet gesture, but I don’t want you forcing yourself into a situation you’re not comfortable in just to keep me company.”

“I’m not fuckin’ _uncomfortable._ It’s just boring and dumb.”

“The point definitely still stands.”

“The whole gala thing is boring and dumb,” Anti amends. “But what else am I gonna do, sit around here on my own and jack off?”

You giggle, because, frankly, he probably would.

“I like spending time wit’ ye, that’s all. Even if it is at some stupid fancy event.”

“Anti—”

“Stop makin’ it a big deal. I’ll come with you, whatever.”

“Is… this because of what I said on the beach?”

Anti gives you a lazy scowl and flicks you on the forehead. “What part of ‘stop makin’ it a big deal’ ain’t ye getting?”

Dark intervenes by gently guiding you towards the bathroom. “I wouldn’t try arguing with him; he’s stubborn when he’s made up his mind regarding something. Take care of your own preparations.”

You go as directed, if a little reluctantly. It’s not that you’re not glad for the company, but not at the expense of—well, whatever. Anti insists it’s not a big deal, and you’re going to have to trust that he wouldn’t do something he really didn’t want to just to make you happy. And, honestly, now you think of it that way, Anti wouldn’t be _that_ selfless. He’s not like you, going along with social situations you don’t care for just for the sake of not rocking the boat. If he really didn’t want to go, he’d damn well not go. He’s a fucking demon, of course he’ll do whatever he wants.

Reassured by the thought, you briefly shower just to get the last of the sand off you. Getting dressed is a quick affair that only takes a quick drying off and sliding into your ballgown. Because that’s pretty much what your dress is. An actual ballgown; though admittedly one that was simply a very lucky find at a thrift store. It’s a rich crimson taffeta, floor length with ruffled tiers, a low-cut neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves.

You’ve never had a chance to wear it before – you hardly go out, and certainly not to events where that level of fancy would be appropriate – but for once you’re relishing in the opportunity to look nice instead of feeling out of place. It feels different if it’s for Dark and Anti. Worth the effort.

It seems Dark has managed to source a suit for Anti as well. Not one of his own, or else one he’s altered for the purpose, because it fits Anti too perfectly to be Dark’s. And Anti looks—

He looks so good.

He doesn’t look overly _impressed_ about being in a suit. Or maybe it’s because of the tie that he’s still struggling with, scowling and swatting at Dark’s hands when Dark attempts to fix it for him.

“I don’t even need a goddamn tie,” Anti grumbles.

“It will be better with it. Hold still.”

But he does look _so_ fucking good.

You head over to collect your shoes and join them. Dark finishes with the tie and leans back to scrutinise his handiwork; his eyes run slowly over Anti, taking the time to drink in all of him. Then Dark reaches for the tie again, and Anti looks like he’s about to say something utterly scathing, but Dark only grabs hold of it and yanks Anti forward into a firm kiss.

You stand there dumbly, halfway through putting on your second high heel and suddenly unable to tear your eyes away. You know how Dark kisses – you’re intimately familiar with that – but it’s fascinating seeing it from the outside. Watching the way his lips lock with Anti’s, the little flashes of his tongue you glimpse between them, and you can practically feel the way he must be exploring Anti’s mouth. And Anti’s hands, clawing at Dark, but not so much trying to shove him off this time as drag him closer.

The heat between them is palpable.

It almost makes you feel guilty for getting between them; that’s a stupid thought though, and you shake it off immediately. They want you there. Right?

Both of them are a little flushed and breathing heavily by the time they’re done kissing. And you’re still just standing there staring.

“What?” Anti says, turning to you and—your heart skips a little beat as you realise. The colour of his tie exactly matches your dress; Dark must have picked it out specially, and that’s such a charming detail.

You bite your lip and grin at him. “You are so damn hot,” you inform Anti.

“What, ‘cause of the suit or smoochin’ Dark?”

“Both. I mean. You’re always hot, but.” You’re starting to stumble over your words. “The suit looks good on you.”

“I’m wearing it jus’ for the stupid gala. The second we’re back here this thing is comin’ _off_.”

“Oh, please.”

Anti snorts a laugh at that response. “Alright, ye little minx. Be like that.”

You turn to Dark; he’s back in his full suit as well. An even nicer one than usual, with a waistcoat beneath his jacket too, and—god. Compliments on how gorgeous he is can’t even begin to do it justice, and honestly your mouth feels a little too dry to be able to speak anyway.

You finally drag your eyes up to meet his, and Dark’s expression makes you feel like you’re melting all over again. He’s looking at you the same way he looked at Anti, with an appreciation and _want_ that makes heat curl in your gut.

“You look beautiful,” Dark says simply, but there’s a weight of sincerity behind his words that makes you ache. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you close. “One dance?” he murmurs. “Since I won’t be able to at the gala.”

His charm still manages to be so thoroughly disarming, and he has your face heating up just from the compliment. “You’re going to make yourself late,” you remind him weakly.

Dark considers this with a low hum. “Afterwards, then.”

You can only nod your agreement. Dark steps away, and a part of you strongly regrets speaking up at all. Forget the gala, you’d be happy just to stay here with them.

But Dark has his part to play, and you don’t want to be so selfish as to drag him away from his obligations. Afterwards.

“One final touch. Anti, you still look too much like Jack, and, given the amount of overlap in Mark’s and Jack’s fandoms, you will be noticed.”

“An’ what d’you expect me to do about it? Ye coulda mentioned it before I got all fuckin’ dressed up an’ shit.”

Dark casually twists his fingers, drawing a mask out from the void. He offers it to Anti.

“Pretty sure it ain’t a masked ball,” Anti says, nose wrinkling.

“It is now.”

Dark does have a point; Anti can’t go with just his glamour, that would be almost as bad as Dark turning up looking like Mark. You hadn’t thought about that. You hadn’t needed to, assuming Anti just wasn’t coming.

“What about—if I had a mask too, at least we’d match? It’d be less weird than if Anti’s the only one wearing one.”

Dark nods. “If you’re willing, dear.”

“Of course. I’ve always wanted to go to a masked ball. It’s not really the same, but a mask would still be cute.”

He tilts his head obligingly and, much like he did with Anti’s mask, pulls one for you from the void. But this time he makes a show of it. Dark smirks, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Darkness gathers at his fingertips like liquid shadow, and he gracefully directs it to form the shape and detail of an intricate lace butterfly mask. It solidifies into existence, and Dark offers it out to you.

“Pfft,” Anti comments. “Who’s the one being unnecessary now?”

You take the mask with both hands, staring down at it. It’s lovely, there’s no doubt of that, but more than anything you’re fascinated by the possibilities. “Can you just… make anything you want like that?”

Dark chuckles. “Darling, I can shift your entire reality if I really wished. A trinket like that is no more effort than blinking.”

Your stomach twists into a very strange knot. Of course, you knew they were far beyond human, but—at times it hits you just how powerful they really are. And they’re spending their time indulging _you?_

It’s simultaneously the most incredible rush, yet leaves you feeling terrifyingly insecure. They could have anyone, anything in the entire world, and yet you’re the one who gets to be with them? They’re beyond out of your league.

You’re just standing there, staring down at the mask, so Dark takes your hands and guides them up to place the mask over your eyes. He kisses you firmly before drawing away.

God. You don’t deserve him. Don’t deserve either of them. How could you possibly be enough?

“Whatever you’re thinking, dear, stop,” Dark says softly. “Are you nervous for the gala still?”

That’s not it, but you’re happy to go along with Dark’s guess. It a better option than explaining what’s really bothering you.

“It’s okay. We should get going.”

“Time for the fun,” Anti mutters, with not an ounce of sincerity.

“There’s gonna be food,” you inform him; even though Anti does his best to maintain his aura of bored reluctance, you can almost visibly see him perk up at the mention.

You part ways with Dark, and then it’s just you and Anti making you way down to the ballroom. You take his hand; Anti gives you a sidelong glance, but he doesn’t pull away.

You’re a little overdressed, you realise as you return to the main corridor and join the tide of others funnelling into the event. Aside from being the only ones with masks, a ballgown is kind of overkill. Every else had a far more modern and sensible interpretation of the ‘formal’ requirement.

Still. You try to keep your head up; you look good regardless.

The atmosphere is lively, at least, and probably more relaxed than at an actual high-class charity gala. You’re all just a bunch of fans of Mark’s at the end of the day, playing at being fancy for the sake of raising money for the charities the event is supporting.

They’re excited, they’re nervous, they’re awkward. A bunch of nerds, just like you are. There are people who’ve met online who have travelled for the event and are finally meeting in person for the first time, or reconnecting after months or years apart. Hugs, laughter, overly loud chatter. It feels almost more like a convention—just one where all the costumes are suits and prom dresses.

Even if you’re not necessarily part of such festivities personally, it’s easier to relax when there’s so much else going on. You can step back and observe or join in as you wish, and it doesn’t feel forced.

You even manage to make small talk with a few different people; your dress earns you a few compliments, and although your masks get a few questioning glances no one has any problem with them.

It’s pleasant. It could even be fun, but you feel like a fraud. Do you really have the right to enjoy any of Mark’s content, this event of his, when you’ve been banging his supposedly-evil demonic counterpart? When you’re here with _Anti_ , of all people, as your date?

Speaking of Anti—he’s tolerating it far better than you had anticipated. In fact, he’s _grinning_. In that smug, self-satisfied way that has you immediately suspicious.

He’s not doing anything, casually draped over a chair and picking at the buffet spread, but there is a group of people very nearby in heated conversation. Heated conversation regarding Mark’s and Jack’s egos, and now that you also stop to listen in, they’re saying some very complimentary things about Anti. ‘Complimentary’ in varying degrees of appropriateness, and Anti is clearly living for it.

“You little narcissist,” you murmur to Anti.

“They’d fuckin’ die if they realised.”

“Metaphorically, or because you’d have to kill them?”

He shrugs, turning that damn grin on you. “I could stab ‘em and they’d _thank_ me.”

Something twists uncomfortably in your stomach, a little too close to jealousy. “Please don’t,” you say, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m not cleaning up after you.”

Anti laughs outright at that. “You sound so much like Dark, oh my fuckin’ god.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Well, I tolerate you both, an’ yer still hot despite tryin’ ta tell me not to murder people, so ye got that goin’ for you.”

You’re pretty sure he’s teasing you. The fact that he drags you into his lap and smooches you helps with that impression, as well as doing quite a lot of alleviate your insecurity. It also leaves you rather flustered; you’re in full public view, damnit. Anti gives no shits, but you’re blushing by the time he lets you up.

The high lasts for a little while, but you still can’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of your mind about something being… off.

You move away from the group talking about the egos; you don’t like hearing it, and you don’t like that you don’t like it. Of course, you have no real claim on either Anti or Dark, and you can hardly stop people talking about – as far as they’re concerned – fictional characters. Your reaction is your problem, not anything they’re doing wrong, and you know that. It’s not fair for you to be upset.

But it’s still unsettling. Fiction versus reality. It feels like two conflicting worlds colliding, and you’re trapped in the middle of both.

You attempt to distract yourself with pleasantries. Casual moments of conversation amongst the swirl of people, enjoying the food laid out across the tables. You can’t deny you’re relieved when the lights begin to dim, though.

The relief only lasts a few short, sweet moments.

The room goes from dimmed, to dark, and there’s a cold pressure in the air that makes you suck in your breath. Your hair stands on end.

And it’s not just you. The low murmurs, like a constant buzz around you, shift from excitement to confusion. Some people catch on quicker than others, and by the time a familiar deep ringing noise fills the air, you can tell they already have an idea of what’s coming.

The room creaks, as though all the weight of the world is threatening to unravel it, and you hear Dark speak before you see him. His voice, low and cold and distant. His presence. He’s playing a part again; it’s only the same sort of thing from his first appearance in the A Date With Markiplier videos. Hollow. Fake.

It’s clicked. The buzz rises to a crescendo, screams of excitement or the fake fear of simulated horror, and you can’t even hear Dark’s words. You don’t want to hear them. This feels so wrong.

The echoes of their screams pounding in your head. The ringing in your ears. Deep words you can’t make out, in that voice that’s so familiar but not meant for you. Not this time.

Your chest feels too tight. You can’t breathe.

Your stomach is tied in a knot so tight it feels like you’re going to be sick, and your vision blurs as your stare down at your shaking hands.

“I can’t do this,” you choke. You don’t even wait for Anti to react. You need out.

You feel a few pairs of eyes on you as you abruptly turn and leave, but almost everyone is too distracted by what’s happening on stage to care about you. Small mercies.

The light shifts – you can see it even in your peripheral vision, fracturing into reds and blues – and the sounds around you reach a sickening pitch of white noise. Dark’s there. On stage now, in person. You know it.

Bile rises in your throat.

Your hands are shaking as you fumble the door open and slip outside, not checking or caring if Anti’s following you.

It’s a little easier to breathe out here, but not by much. There’s—signs, there. Across the main grand hallway and into a smaller side corridor, winding around a corner or two, and there’s a restroom. Fancy, like most things here; it’s a combination of bathroom and a separate dressing room with mirror and coat racks and couches, which in a nicer option than having to hide in a toilet stall at least.

You tuck yourself into a corner and curl your knees to your chest. Hands to your head and hide your face so no one can see the tears.

Stupid.

It’s so _stupid_.

Why are you even upset? Why does it _hurt?_

Everything feels so wrong.

“Hey, uhh. You okay, doll?” Anti’s voice cuts in. Confused, but concerned. He did follow you, not far behind at all.

When you don’t reply – _can’t_ reply – Anti touches your shoulder. Since you don’t pull away, but don’t react to the touch either, he sits down beside you.

It’s obvious he doesn’t know what to do. You sneak a glance through your tears, and you can see the awkwardness written clear on his face. But he’s adamantly trying, and that just hurts even more.

“What’s up?”

You choke on a frustrated, bitter laugh. Nothing. Everything. You _don’t know_. Why the fuck did that get to you so much? It wasn’t even one thing. Just. Lots of stupid little things that built up and—

“Was it Dark doin’ his creepy eldritch abomination thing?”

“Wha—?” Anti’s so far off base that it manages to startle you out of it for a moment. “No! God, no. I’m not upset ‘cause I’m _scared_ of him.”

Scared definitely isn’t right. It was more—the dissonance. Because that was Darkiplier. A character Mark created, something _fictional_. Not your Dark.

It still feels unreal to you at times. When they weren’t there, especially at the start after your first night together, and you’d wonder if you were just fucking insane. Wonder where the hell your boundaries between fiction and reality went, all the lines blurring. How could they be _real?_ How could you look at characters like that and fall so hard for them?

You thought you’d long since got over that – spending time with them, even just in short conversations over the phone, made it clear they were so much deeper than the parts you saw on screen. People, not characters.

Until tonight, and all of that came rushing back like a suckerpunch to the gut.

Honestly, you kind of wish you hadn’t freaked out and had been able to stay and appreciate what Dark was doing. Because you would have liked to have seen it. You can’t deny his power is incredibly appealing, and when he uses that _voice_ …

Even the whole breaking of reality thing aside, though, it. Stings. There had been so much contention about him using his powers around you earlier – though he had been better about it and relaxed a lot more today, and you have to remember to appreciate that – yet he just went full demon mode in front of an entire fucking audience of strangers with no qualms?

Logically, you understand it. Because they think everything is just special effects. That it’s Mark dressed up and acting in character, putting on a show for the sake of dramatics and excitement. Of course it’s not the same damn thing.

But logic doesn’t stop that stupid, emotionally-driven little part of your heart that feels like Dark trusts them more than you.

One more thorn of many.

It’s so many things, so many stupid little things that should be meaningless on their own. How do you explain all of that? Even if you could find the words, you’re in no state to be speaking. If you try you’ll only break down into sobs and—goddamnit, you’re already making enough of an embarrassment of yourself in front of Anti, you’re a fucking mess.

He doesn’t know how to react and you don’t blame him. You’ve never been able to help anyone else in your life either.

Anti touches your shoulder again and you shake him off.

“I dunno what ta do,” he admits. “Do ye need. Tissues or somethin’?”

It would almost be sweet, his attempts at helping despite how blatantly out of his depth he is. And—you’re more used to just crying things out by yourself, you hardly know what to do with someone there to comfort you either. But actually, tissues would be really useful.

You nod slowly.

He leaves briefly, and returns with a small stack of paper towels for you. You take them gratefully, pulling the stupid mask off and letting it fall to the floor so you can wipe your eyes. At least you won’t have to face them with tears trailing down your cheeks and a runny nose now.

Anti tries one more time, placing his hand against your waist, and this time you accept the small gesture of comfort. You’re stiff at first, but he pulls you in closer to rest against his chest. Slowly, gradually, you relax into the embrace.

You can’t think about it too hard, though. God, that’ll only make everything worse again. He’s trying so hard for you and that’s—why would he _try?_ That’s the other massive thorn in your side, jabbing at you like a knife wound. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve them. He’s a goddamn _demon_ and you’re a pathetic little bitch sobbing in a bathroom—

You hear another set of footsteps approaching, and you tense and pray for whoever else needs the bathroom to just go and then leave, but they stop in front of you.

Dark murmurs your name and your heart feels like it’s breaking all over again.

When you don’t respond, he turns to Anti. “What happened?”

You feel Anti shrug. “I didn’t do anythin’.”

You have to—say _something_. You shake your head. “I-I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I’m—it’s so stupid. I just got. Really insecure and jealous and shit a-and. Kinda had a bit of a panic attack. I’m okay.”

You can feel Dark’s eyes on you. “You’re not okay,” he says, taking your hand.

You snatch it back with a choked sob. “Stop! Stop being so fucking _nice_ to me.”

“Why would we do that?”

“I don’t—how can I deserve this? Did you _see_ that room? There were hundreds of people who would kill for a chance to be with you! Prettier, smarter, funnier; I’m _nothing_ , okay? That’s the fucking problem. I _love_ you, but I don’t understand how you can see anything in me. I’m just waiting for the day you wake up and realise I’m not worth it, and the more you act like you care about me in the meantime the more it _hurts_.”

They’re both very quiet for a long moment. Dark takes your hand more insistently this time, not letting you pull away. He says your name again, beginning to speak, but you cut him off.

“Oh, and that’s another fucking thing. I love you. God. I’m in love with you, I can’t keep denying it to myself. And that _terrifies_ me. I don’t—I _know_ you’re not human, I get it, and I don’t expect you to be able to return my feelings the same way, I swear. I’d never put that pressure on you. But I just—I—”

You managed to keep it relatively together for long enough to most of your rant out, but there are sobs catching in your throat again now, and the tears only come faster. Trying to talk about it always makes it worse, you should’ve just shut your mouth and waited until you’d cried it all out. Fucking _idiot_.

But now you have to finish. They’re both just _waiting_ for you.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you manage to get out, voice cracking.

“Why would you lose us?” Dark questions quietly.

“Isn’t that disgusting? Having a pathetic little human head over heels for you?”

“You think so little of yourself,” he comments, and—that cuts to the quick. A simple observation, but he’s so right and it _aches_.

You have nothing to say in your defence. You don’t have the energy left. When Dark wraps his arms around you, you can only collapse against him, breaths ragged and your shoulders still quietly shaking.

“I’ll take you back upstairs,” he offers. “Our room is more private.”

You nod, appreciating the thought.

Dark lifts you in a bridal carry, and you allow your head to fall against his shoulder. Anti picks up your mask and follows the two of you to the elevator.

You don’t want to leave Dark’s arms. You’ve tired yourself out with your emotional outburst, and you’re more ready to allow yourself to be comforted now. As much as you can be. It still feels bittersweet, like it can only be temporary, but it’s… nice to just be held.

“Do you want to change into something more comfortable?” Dark asks, setting you down on your feet as you enter the room.

You suppose that’s a good idea. It feels like more effort than it should, but the ballgown is unwieldy and feels somehow… fake. Like you’re trying to dress up and play pretend, be something you’re not.

You change into your pyjamas, wiping off the rest of your makeup in the bathroom. It was wrecked anyway.

When you return, Anti’s lost his jacket and the tie, shirtsleeves rolled up and top buttons undone. A shame you’re not in the best frame of mind to appreciate the sight.

He and Dark are sat on the room’s couch, waiting for you. You hesitate, shy around them again for the first time, and there’s something almost pained in Anti’s expression to see you pull back.

“Come here,” Dark commands. Low, sympathetic, but a command nonetheless.

You won’t disobey a direct order. You go to them, and Dark pulls you back into his arms. Holding you between them, and you breathe in a shuddering sigh. His hand settles just above your hip, rubbing small, smoothing circles against your skin.

“Now, dear. Do you want to talk to us?”

“No. I think I’m done. I’m… really sorry, I’m normally better about bottling that shit up.”

“There’s no need to apologise,” Dark reassures you.

“An’ bottling it up don’t exactly sound too healthy,” Anti adds.

You level a wry, half-hearted glower at him. “Have you ever not bottled up _your_ emotions?”

“…that’s different.”

That manages to get a small, shaky giggle out of you. You lean against Dark again, and Anti kisses the side of your neck.

“It still concerns me that you think you are worth so little to us.”

The little levity you’d managed to regain fades away again. You don’t really want to talk about this. “I… I do believe you care. Or that you believe you care. But I just don’t see what I can offer you. I’m only with you because I got damn lucky running into you at the theatre that first night. It could have been anyone.”

Dark tilts his head. “You’re right. It was luck we were there at the same time. But how many others were at the theatre?”

“…What do you mean?”

“You already demonstrated your devotion to us, seeking out such a place.”

You hadn’t really thought about it that way before. “I suppose. But still, anyone could have gone.”

“Anyone could have. But you did.”

“And jus’ ‘cause any random person coulda turned up there don’t mean we would’ve liked ‘em just for that. Might’ve been coincidence to run into ye, but we wouldn’t have stuck around if there weren’t more to it.”

“Remember what I said on the beach?” Dark prompts. “Regarding souls.”

“Yes. I guess?”

“Every soul has an energy, a frequency to it. Some are more harmonious; you may view it as when you meet someone and ‘click’ with them with very little effort.”

You nod, understanding the concept. Understanding what Dark’s trying to say, but your chest still aches too much to want to accept it. “You…”

“Yer fun to be around. Easy to get along with. Don’t annoy the shit out of me like a whole bunch of other humans do.”

“We resonate, don’t you think?”

You look between them, feeling like you’re about to start crying again. Only because you’re still emotional, feeling tender from before. But they’re closer to happy tears this time.

You laugh a little, trying to shake off the way it makes your heart flutter. “For a pair of demons, that’s pretty dumb and sappy.”

Dark raises an eyebrow. He hooks a finger beneath your jaw and lifts your chin, tilting your head up to face him. “Hm. Another thing, dear. You seem rather convinced we’re somehow incapable of caring for you, or that we would cast you aside for caring about us.”

You try to glance away, stomach sinking, but Dark won’t let you. “I just thought—you’re not exactly human, so it’s not fair to expect you to _be_ human.”

“You think we’re not capable of love? That is quite the assumption you’re making.”

His voice is low and even, not admonishing you, but—shit. You never thought about it from their point of view. That’s pretty fucking awful, really, to assume they can’t feel or love to the same extent just because of something they are. What the hell do you know about demons to be making judgements like that?

“I didn’t mean—”

Dark must be able to see the realisation dawn in your eyes, because he chuckles. “You were protecting yourself. If we can’t love, you need not concern yourself whether we do love you or not, is that correct?”

God. How can he _do_ that? Just cut straight through your bullshit, take all your stupid little concerns and insecurities that feel like an unmanageable, tangled mess in your head and bring them down into something so succinct and terrifyingly accurate.

Dark’s brought up the exact question you were trying to hide from this whole damn time, and you don’t know if you can face it. Then again, it seems to be a night for falling apart, so if it goes badly at least you have a head start on that. “…do you?” you ask softly. “Love me?”

You immediately regret the words. Just saying it makes you want to run and avoid ever having to hear the answer, afraid of what it might be.

Everything was so much easier when this was just a stupid little fling. Why did you have to go and get _attached?_

Dark hums in consideration. “I care for you. I feel very protective of you. And understand, I have no intention of letting you go.”

“You _belong_ to _us_ , doll,” Anti says. His hand slides beneath your pyjama top, over the small of your back, and you gasp as a small twinge of pain runs through the wound left there.

Last night. He carved his name into you, marked you as his.

It’s not love. They haven’t and they won’t say that, but it doesn’t hurt as much as you were expecting it to. You’re the one moving way too fast and falling for them when you barely know them, and you didn’t expect their love, really. Maybe they _could_ love you as time goes on and you grow closer. But as long as you don’t lose this, lose what you have with them now, you’re fine with it. That they care on any level is more than you could have dreamed of.

Belonging to them. You can be happy with that.

“Now,” Dark says, brushing your hair from your face. “Are you ready to talk about what set all of this off?”

You shake your head; not as a no to his question, but as a dismissive gesture. “I’m sorry,” you apologise again. “I’d been letting all of that bullshit fester for too long, is all. It was the gala—all those other people there, all those fans, I just. Got even more insecure than usual. And then seeing you use your powers…”

Dark frowns. “Is that a concern for you?”

“No! It was just the context of it. Because it wasn’t really _you_ on stage; it was Darkiplier, some fictional character Mark came up with, and everyone else in that room believed that. It just fucked with my head a little.” You pause, wiping your eyes, then sniff and continue with a sigh.

“That, and… you were so reluctant about seeming inhuman in front of me earlier, but then you go and do _that_ in front of a random audience? Like you trust them more than me.” You shake your head at yourself. “It’s dumb. I get it, I promise. It’s totally different things, the gala shit was just for show. Playing your part. But it just. Set everything off, I guess. That’s all.”

“I see.”

“The demon thing doesn’t bother me at all, I promise. I really like seeing you use your powers, actually. It’s kind of hot. And when you talk like that—” You cut yourself off, starting to blush as you realise where your sentence is headed.

Fortunately, Dark doesn’t call you out on that. Not just yet. “Are you certain? Do not think I didn’t notice your distance after I created the mask for you earlier.”

“Oh. That. No, that was just—more insecure bullshit. You’re so powerful and incredible and it just. Hit me how out of my league you were. But, honestly, have you seen how gorgeous you guys are? I’d probably be thinking the same even without the demon magic shit.”

Dark huffs a small laugh. “You have strange priorities.”

“S’part of being human. We’re all fucking messes.”

“Ye say that as though demons ain’t,” Anti comments idly, which is a statement you definitely don’t have time to unpack all the implications of.

“But I’m… your mess,” you say. Tentatively. Hopefully.

“Ours,” Dark reiterates firmly, and then his lips are on yours and you’re melting into the heat of his kiss.

You moan softly, letting his tongue in to taste you. His hands slide beneath your top, caressing your sides, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him closer. Anti’s on your other side, one hand on your thigh and his mouth against your throat, alternating between soft kisses and letting his teeth graze against the sensitive flesh.

This is what you need now. You’ve spilled your soul, all your stupid anxieties, and it feels lighter without the burden of having it all bottled up. The physical comfort, the reassurance that they _want_ you, is perfect.

Dark pulls away, and you whine.

“Look at me, dear,” he says. There’s a smirk on his face, a wicked glint in his dark eyes. His voice lowers, into that deep, commanding tone that makes your knees feel weak. “Do you trust me?”

You’re not sure why he’s talking like that, but it makes your mouth feel dry. You nod.

“And you will listen to me, won’t you?”

“Y-yes. Of course, sir.”

Calling him sir wasn’t exactly planned. But when he starts talking like that, when there’s that particular intensity about him, it feels so natural to bow to his will.

“Then listen.” He grips your jaw again, tighter than before. You can’t look away; even if you were able to turn your face, his gaze drags you in like a black hole.

“You belong to us now. And we are not letting you go.”  The possessiveness, the _dominance_ , in his voice makes you shiver.

“Dark—"

“We would not give that honour to someone who was not worthy, do you understand?”

You swallow. You can feel your face heating up, chest tightening again.

Even if it’s hard for you to wrap your head around them wanting you, Dark says they do and there’s no arguing with him. Not when he says it like that.

When he speaks again, it’s slightly softer. “If you cannot believe in yourself, believe in me.”

You can’t find the words to reply. He’s given you everything you needed to hear, and your soul aches with how much that means to you. How much you appreciate it, how much you want to give him the entire damn world in return.

God. Is it any wonder you ended up falling for him so hard?

You lean in and kiss him again, with all the passion you don’t know how to express out loud. Anti chuckles behind you, apparently enjoying the sight, so you turn your head and kiss him too.

It gets a little hard to follow after that. All you know is that you’re sandwiched between them, and there’s two pairs of hands all over you. Making out with each of them in turn, their kisses hard and heated.

You want them so badly. You want to give them everything.

Your face is flushed, lips reddened and kiss-swollen, and it takes everything you have not to grind down needily against Dark’s thigh. So easy for them to work you up and leave you helplessly turned on. But you want to do something for Dark first.

You slide off the couch, getting to your knees in front of him.

“Darling—”

“Please. Let me serve you,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his knee.

Lust flares in his eyes as he looks down at you. “If that’s what you want.”

He parts his thighs for you and you settle between them, thrumming with anticipation. He’s hard as hell beneath his suit trousers, that much is obvious from just a glance. You weren’t the only one who’s been getting very into your make-out session.

You can hear the quiet catch of his breath as you undo his fly and draw his cock out. It turns to a soft noise of appreciation as you graze your lips along the underside of his length, working you way up to the head with hot, open-mouthed kisses.

“Goddamn. Ye always look so fuckin’ good on your knees,” Anti comments, his voice a rough drawl.

You don’t answer, too focused on slowly taking Dark’s cock into your mouth. Curling your tongue around him, feeling the hot, heavy weight of his hardness. But you appreciate the compliment.

Dark tangles his fingers into your hair, guiding your movements. Not too demanding, not yet. Slow and steady, taking him a little deeper each time until his cock is hitting the back of your throat, and you groan softly as you breathe in through your nose and let him in. Let him gently fuck your face until there are tears in your eyes and saliva drooling from your lips, the caress of his hands –one in your hair, the other cupping your face – a delicious contrast to the way he rocks his hips and thrusts his cock into your mouth.

You tighten your lips around him, let your tongue stroke him, suck around his length. Anything to please him.

It’s very much worth it to hear the sounds he makes. The way his breaths choke, the low groans. When you do something he particularly likes and he _growls,_ and the sound of it goes straight to your core.

Anti, not content to be left out, attacks Dark’s upper body. It’s his wandering hands that are responsible for pulling off Dark’s tie and shirt, leaving little scratches in the wake of his clawed nails and a string of purpling lovebites in the wake of his teeth and tongue.

Dark groans your name, and you only redouble your efforts. His head falls back and he makes a guttural noise of pleasure, shoving you away. “Enough, dear,” he pants, and for a moment you’re disappointed. You wanted to make him come. Then his eyes flash hungrily, and your stomach twists. “Allow me to return the favour.”

You make an undignified yelp as he scoops you up, half gasping and half giggling as he shoves you against the wall. He kisses you firmly to quieten you, then smirks.

Dark makes quick work of your pyjamas, pulling your top over your head between kisses and dragging your shorts and underwear down together. He rids himself of the last of his own clothing too. Once you’re naked against him, he hooks your knees over his shoulders and, with no preamble at all, lifts you entirely off the ground.

“Dark! Oh, _shit_.”

He has you raised to head height. At head height with your back pressed against the wall and legs wrapped around his neck, Dark’s face buried between your thighs. You tangle one hand into his hair while the other scrabbles against the wall, clutching at him as if you need to try to help hold yourself up. You don’t. Dark easily keeps you steady, his grip on your thighs and his sheer strength more than enough to casually hold you up in the air while his tongue seeks out your dripping core.

You forget how to breathe for a moment. Definitely forget how to think. He’s holding you up there with no effort at all, and just that casual display of power alone would have been hot as hell. And then there’s the fact he’s doing it to _eat_ _you_ _out_.

You arch your back against the wall, moaning. He’s barely even started, only teasing licks against your entrance. Gradually delving deeper and—fuck, you can’t writhe too much up here. You don’t think Dark would drop you, but there’s no sense making the position even more difficult for him. Only it’s so hard not to squirm in pleasure as his tongue dips inside you and your brain turns to mush.

“Dark, oh god, _yes_ ,” you babble senselessly. You could swear you feel him smiling against you for a moment. Then he starts stroking you from inside in earnest, his tongue doing the most deliciously sinful things to you, and your whole world narrows to nothing but heat and pleasure and _Dark_.

You adore the way he can leave you so utterly helpless. Moaning for him, thighs trembling. When he curls his tongue against your clit and sends a shock of desperate lust arching through your entire body.

Your hand flies up to try and cover your mouth, but it barely muffles all the needy little noises you’re making. It feels so good. God, it feels good. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly he can drive you to the edge, only you don’t have any space left in your brain for emotions as needless as embarrassment. Not for this

“I-I…” you try to gasp out. “Dark, I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not, dear,” Dark says, and you can only let out a desperate whine as he pulls away. He bites lightly at the inside of your thigh in admonishment. “We’re only getting started.”

You’re dazed and panting, and your knees shake enough to almost give way when Dark lets you down to stand on your own feet again. He levels you with a heated smile that makes your heart skip, then gestures towards the bed. “I think you’re forgetting someone.”

Anti. Oh.

Anti is sprawled on the bed, his shirt open and barely clinging to him. Trousers gone entirely, and boxers pushed down his thighs to free his cock. He has a hand wrapped around himself, but his eyes are fixed firmly on you.

“Why don’t we put on a show for him?” Dark suggests, low and seductive, against the shell of your ear. You nod.

Dark guides you over to the edge of the bed, having you kneel upright while he holds you from behind. Anti shuffles further back on the bed to make room, smirking like the proverbial cat that got the cream.

You can feel his heated gaze, devouring every inch of you while Dark plays your body. Touching you all over in feather-light caresses that feel like they’re going to drive you mad. One hand toys with your breasts, cupping each in turn and tugging at your nipples until you whimper, while the other migrates between your thighs.

“Fuck,” Anti groans lowly, thrusting his hips up into his own fist. “You don’t know how good ye look all sexed up for us.”

The only answer you can give is a needy, broken gasp as Dark’s fingers slide inside you. Two of them, just starting to shallowly thrust into you while you squirm for him.

“Such a pretty little thing,” Dark agrees. “And all ours.”

“Y-yours!” you promise. Your head lolls back against Dark’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. You never even had time to calm down properly after how close you got before and he’s—

“You wouldn’t cum without permission, now, would you?” he murmurs darkly.

He says that, but he keeps stroking inside you, finding the exact spot that makes you cry out and teasing it relentlessly. Harder, faster. Another finger, three stretching you open now.

“Dark! _Please,_ ” you beg. “I _can’t_. If you keep doing that I really am gonna cum.”

Your thighs are quivering, desperate, needy whimpers falling from your parted lips. Writhing on his fingers, clenching involuntarily around him. You’re trying so hard, _so_ fucking hard not to come, but he won’t _stop_ and it’s too much. You’re not going to be able to hold back.

You don’t want to disobey, you’d stop it if you could, but the physical stimulation is going to undo you.

“Please,” you gasp again, choking on a broken sob as he curls his fingers at the perfect angle inside you. You can’t. You _can’t_. All it takes is a few more strokes against that deliciously sensitive spot, his touch so rough but in the most blissful way, and you come undone.

Pleasure pulses through you, trembling around Dark’s fingers as you shudder and cry out. Panting breaths, face flushed a brilliant red. God. All it takes in him finger fucking you for you to end up a wreck.

Dark has stilled entirely, that dangerous sort of stillness of a predator waiting to pounce, and of course you remember how you weren’t supposed to orgasm without permission.

“F-fuck…” you mutter shakily.

Slowly, Dark slides his fingers from you and drags his nails along the sensitive inside of your thighs, slick with your own wetness. “Now, now, darling—”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to.”

He chuckles darkly behind you, then kisses the side of your neck. You hesitantly turn to glance at him, slightly fearful of what you’ll find; you hate to disappoint people, and no one more so than Dark. But there’s only an expression of smug satisfaction on his face, eyes alight with wicked intent. He’s certainly not genuinely upset with you in anyway.

The realisation hits you immediately. “You did that on purpose,” you accuse.

“Perhaps. But don’t think I won’t punish you, dear,” he says, voice a low, seductive rumble.

There’s no ‘perhaps’ about it. He kept working you over until you came, even when you warned him and begged him to stop, just so he’d have the excuse to punish you. You can’t be upset about it, though, not when everything about his tone and body language promises that this will be the sort of punishment you can very much enjoy as well. He did it so both of you could benefit.

He grazes his teeth against the side of your throat. “Get back here and bend over the bed,” Dark commands you.

He guides you in doing exactly that; dragging your hips back until you step down onto the floor, then pushing your face and chest down into the covers. Pinning you there with a hand around the back of your neck. His other hand trails over your ass, and you suddenly have a very good idea of what he has planned.

“Tied up and spanked, is that what you wanted?” he purrs.

God, _yes_. And hearing him say it like that, in that deep, commanding voice, does things to you all on its own. You’ve only just come down from your first orgasm, still sensitive and heady in the aftermath, but having him manhandle you and talk to you like that is enough to make lust spark through you all over again.

He pulls your arms behind you, forearms parallel across the small of your back, and picks up one of the discarded ties from where it had been tossed to the floor. (You’re not sure if it’s Dark’s or Anti’s.) The slide of the silky fabric against your skin as he binds you tight with it is enough to make you moan softly.

You glance back over your shoulder to find Dark smirking heatedly. The expression is mirrored on Anti’s face in front of you.

The anticipation. The way they look at you like that. You can feel the heat pooling in your core again already, just from knowing what’s to come and _wanting_ it. Dark’s fingers graze over your ass again, down the back of your thigh, and that’s all the warning you get before he pulls his hand back and spanks you.

Your hips buck with the force of the impact, a moan falling from your lips. It stings, but not at all unbearably, and the pain excites you more than anything. Dark does it again and your eyes roll back.

“Damn,” Anti groans adoringly. “Look at ye, masochistic little slut. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

He’s getting off on watching you. Hard as hell, cock leaking in his fist as he strokes himself. Which is a mouth-watering sight in itself. And with your head down on the bed as it is, you have a perfect view of him.

“Nn, Anti—” you begin, only to be interrupted by your voice cracking as Dark lands another blow on your ass. The heat of it, the throbbing sting, is the most blissful mix of pain and pleasure. It’s hard to focus through it, your whole being craving to just drown in the sensation. But you don’t want to leave Anti out. You try to gesture with your head for him to come closer, lips parted in offering.

Dark catches on and chuckles. “Do you want to suck him too?”

Anti’s eyes are glazed with desire as he looks down at you. “Not that I don’t ‘preciate the offer,” he says reluctantly; it’s clear he wants it with how rough his voice is, “but dunno how much of a good idea it is to have teeth ‘round there while yer hitting her an’ shit. I like a bit of pain, but that ain’t the good kind.”

That gets Dark to laugh outright for a short moment. “I’m sure she can figure something out, can’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod emphatically. Dark leans over to grip Anti’s knees and abruptly drag him closer; close enough that your head ends up buried in his crotch.

Even with all your best intentions, Anti does make a good point. So you don’t take him into your mouth; instead, you just nuzzle against his hard length, teasing him with kisses and little kitten licks. It’s easier this way anyway. You can’t brace yourself with your arms bound behind your back, so blowing him properly might have been a little more challenging.

Dark gives you a moment to get settled, then you jerk and gasp as he returns to spanking you. That’s six. Seven. Eight. You stop trying to count the blows eventually. There’s too much to feel, and it’s starting to overwhelm your senses.

The sharp, biting sting when Dark’s hand cracks against you, bleeding out into a dull ache. The soothing caress of his fingers between strikes. The heady musk of Anti’s cock right there in your face, how hot and hard it feels beneath your tongue as you lick along the underside and down to Anti’s balls, curling your tongue around one of them and lightly sucking on it until Anti moans.

“Ohh, fuck yeah, babe. That’s a good girl,” he says, voice glitching ever so slightly. The praise makes you glow.

Dark interrupts with another hard smack; harder than his previous ones, and it makes you cry out and squirm beneath his hand. “You’re distracting her.”

“You’re punishing her for no good reason,” Anti shoots back.

You can practically hear the smirk in Dark’s voice. “Do you really think this is a punishment?” he asks, before raining down a series of short, hard blows to your thighs and ass.

“D-Dark!” you gasp, moaning. It’s not a moan of pain. You face feels so damn warm, head swimming blissfully, and the ache between your legs is only increasing as the dull, throbbing sting of his strikes builds.

“You love it, darling.”

“Yes,” you breathe. God, yes. You’ve admitted it before, and your time with Anti and Dark is only confirming what you already knew; you really do have a bit of a masochistic streak. And being sandwiched between them like this, bent over with your face buried between Anti’s thighs and Dark behind you… you want nothing more than to stay in exactly the same position, but with both of their cocks inside you.

“Dark, I—” Your face is flushing even brighter, you know it. “I want you. Both of you, like this. Please.”

There’s a short moment in which they translate what you’re asking, and then Anti’s cock twitches; you can feel the way it bucks beneath your lips. He’s _very_ into the idea. “You wanna be spit-roasted, doll?”

“Greedy,” Dark accuses lightly, spanking you one last time for such a bold request. Then his fingers trail back between your thighs and brush against your slick entrance. “And so wet again already.”

You whimper. “I need you, sir.”

“How precious.” He leans over and presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. “You want to take both our cocks at once?”

The only reply you can manage is a nod and a needy whine.

“Hm. I did have another plan in mind, but I’m certain such a lovely, willing little pet won’t have a problem with doing both.”

That has you curious. Dark had something particular in mind? You almost want to forget about the spit-roasting idea and concede to whatever he had planned, but—both, he says. Both is good. Both might be more than you can handle, your mind supplying you with mental images of being fucked and used over and over and over again until you’re a wreck. That only makes the idea hotter.

You’re more than willing to let them ruin you. They’ve been very good at putting you back together again afterwards so far, after all.

Dark squeezes your thigh gently, a short warning to let you know he’s going to leave for a moment. Not to go far, only over to the bedside table to retrieve condoms. And lube, apparently; the latter he tosses at Anti, alongside another condom, and Anti picks it up from the covers and raises an eyebrow at Dark.

“How about this. You fuck her, while I fuck you.”

Anti’s other eyebrow joins the first, a grin spreading over his face. “At the same time?”

Dark nods, and Anti lets out a low whistle.

“After we’re done spit-roasting her, of course. You can prep yourself while she sucks you, if you like. Or not. Your choice.”

Anti barks a laugh. “How many goddamn times have I taken your dick? Just lube up enough when we get to it and I’m good.”

Your brain is still somewhere back on that part about having Anti fuck you while Dark fucks Anti, and your breath catches in your throat. Oh, god. Yes. _Please_. If that was what Dark meant by having another plan in mind, both is _definitely_ good.

You don’t have time to think about that, though. Dark returns, and his hands are immediately on your sides, lips trailing hot kisses down your spine and making you shiver. You spread you legs wider, almost subconsciously, hips grinding against the edge of the bed. You’re so ready for him, feeling it as a physical ache between your legs with how empty and needy you are.

“Please, Dark,” you murmur.

“Would you rather have your arms unbound for this?”

You shake your head. It would be easier, no doubt about that, but—there’s something particularly hot about being tied up, so helpless and trapped between them while being used from both ends.

Anti kicks his boxers off the rest of the way and lets the open shirt slide from his shoulders completely. Naked in front of you, and he grips your chin and forces you to look up at him. “Want my cock, doll?”

“Mmm,” you hum in agreement, already leaning in to nuzzle against his erection again. You don’t care if you’re acting desperate and shameless. You want them. You love them, you’d do anything for them. You want to please them. That, and just the thought of being used by both of them has you dripping with lust. They’re hot as fuck, you’re turned on, and you _want_ it.

Dark grips your hips, more firmly this time, and there’s clear intent in his touch. He holds you steady while the sheathed head of his cock grinds against your entrance, slowly sinking into you and— _fuck_. You moan as his thick length stretches you open, and it hits you all over again just how desperate for it you were.

God. It feels so full; Dark doesn’t stop until he’s buried completely inside you, and you don’t think you’re ever going to get over just how deliciously huge he is.

And maybe Dark’s right – maybe you _are_ greedy, that even that isn’t enough. Not when you’ve been promised more, not when Anti’s right there in front of you, waiting expectantly.

You run your tongue along Anti’s cock, kissing the tip. He’s leaking precome liberally, and you can taste it on your tongue as you tighten your lips around him. His clawed fingers run through your hair encouragingly, holding either side of your head to brace you as he thrusts shallowly into your mouth.

Your fingers flex and clench into fists, bound behind your back. Your eyes flutter shut and you moan quietly around Anti’s cock.

Both of them, moving slowly at first so as not to overwhelm you, but once they find a steady rhythm to settle into and start getting into it—fuck. You’re gone.

It’s not _hard_ hard. They’re still mindful that the position is somewhat of a strain for you. But it’s hard enough, rough enough; two pairs of hands gripping possessively at you while their cocks fill you and fuck you from both ends, and it feels absolutely filthy. You can’t do anything like this other than let them have their way with you. Let them use you. Surrender to the pleasure as Dark’s cock strokes inside you and Anti’s cock fills your mouth until you can barely breathe, but that doesn’t matter because it’s just _good_.

You’re theirs. It makes you feel—claimed, _wanted_. They’re not holding back their noises. Dark’s sharp breaths, the quiet, possessive growls, the way he mutters your name so deeply you can barely hear it. Anti’s groans and half-choked murmurs of encouragement and praise, of how well you take their cocks, how hot your mouth is, how much he wants to come down your throat.

Dark catches that last part. “No,” he demands.

“C’mon! I’ve barely had any action yet, lemme—”

“You can come when it’s your turn inside her.”

That’s hard to argue with. You almost want to laugh at Anti’s frustrated hiss, but then Dark thrusts into you again and his cock strokes against the most blissful spot, and you end up moaning instead.

If it weren’t for Anti’s cock muffling your noises, you’d be the loudest of all. Needy little whines, mewling with pleasure each time you’re filled and fucked. It’s far from the hardest they’ve taken you, but with both of them at once it feels more—intense.

Your legs are shaking, and you’re glad that being bent over the edge of the bed means you don’t have to support your own weight. You don’t think you could. Your arms are straining against the tie binding them, face flushed, saliva drooling from the corner of your mouth where it’s stretched so wide around Anti’s length, and your own slick trailing down your thighs.

And it’s fucking perfect.

Dark comes first. His grip on your hips tightens, hard enough to mix pain in with the pleasure. His thrusts grow shallow, staying buried deep as his cock bucks inside your tight, wet heat.

“Ah, love—” he groans, voice rough and hoarse. “You’re so good, pet.”

Dark’s slowly slides his cock free once he’s spent, and you let Anti slide from your mouth in turn. Dark guides you up to sit in Anti’s lap.

“Hi,” you greet, grinning shyly as if you hadn’t just been sucking on Anti’s cock while Dark pounded you from behind.

Anti has no time for teasing, only growling and immediately dragging you into a demanding kiss.

“I can taste my own cock on ye,” he comments, in a voice that makes your stomach flip and your core pulse.

Dark undoes the tie still binding you. The second you’re free to do so, you fling your arms around Anti’s neck and rock against him. His cock is right _there_ , grinding against your soaked hole, and you—

“Tell me yer good to keep goin’” Anti says. Almost begs.

“ _Yes!_ Please, I want it.”

He grunts and shoves you away, creating just enough space for him to roll the condom Dark tossed at him earlier on. The second he’s done he drags you back, too worked up and impatient to give you any warning. Not like you don’t know what’s coming, but being so roughly, abruptly filled again makes you cry out.

“Nngh, Anti!” you gasp, clenching and trembling around him. You’re already in such a heady state of pleasure from being spanked and then used by both of them, suspended in that state of almost-but-not-quite-enough to push you over the edge, that you’re close to coming from the penetration alone.

He can tell. Anti grins, gaze searing with lust. His nails claw down your back, scraping over the wound of his name carved into you and making you flinch and squirm.

“Oh, fuck, doll,” he groans between littering your mouth with fierce kisses, “you’re so good, so tight an’ wet for me.”

You can only moan helplessly in response. His pace is far more brutal now, chasing his own orgasm and driving you rapidly towards yours. When he decides you’re not riding him hard enough, he grips your hips and lifts you, flipping you onto your back in one smooth movement.

You’re part gasping, part giggling, loving the exhilaration of being manhandled like that. Then Anti’s lips are on your again, more insistent than ever.

Some small, distracted part of you is vaguely aware that Dark is still there. But it’s hard to focus on something as minor as that when Anti’s all over you, and your entire existence feels like it’s narrowed down to his touch and the white-hot pleasure of his cock pounding into you.

It’s only when Anti slows – and you can’t hold back your whine of disappointment at that – that you remember.

That’s right. Dark wanted to fuck Anti while Anti was fucking you, and the thought sends a shiver running through you. He’s swapped out for a fresh condom, stroking himself back to hardness while watching Anti have his way with you. You can’t tell exactly what Dark’s doing – he’s behind Anti, and you’re very thoroughly pinned to the bed without much wriggle room to see what’s happening – but from the way Anti has stilled and his expression gone slack, you can make a pretty good guess.

Dark leans over, muttering something obscene that makes Anti’s eyes flare. Then Anti hisses and shudders as Dark’s cock sinks into him.

There’s a moment where he takes things slow; a moment that’s almost tender. Anti stays still, buried to the hilt inside you, while Dark shallowly thrusts into him and stretches him open.

“Fuck,” Anti swears, quietly but emphatically, and you have to laugh a little. ‘Cause, yeah, being in the middle is kind of like that.

You cup his face and kiss him. You’re vaguely aware of Dark’s movements behind Anti; you’re very aware when Dark snaps his hips forwards and fucks into Anti _hard_ , and the force of the movement slams Anti even deeper into you.

They’ve done this before. A lot. It’s obvious that Dark knows exactly how Anti likes it, the exact angle to make him writhe. You can see in Anti’s blissed-out expression; the pleasure mixed with the pain (because Dark isn’t at all gentle with him, not now the initial moment of adjustment is over), the way his eyebrows furrow and his eyes glaze over, gritting his teeth to stop himself from moaning. It’s—god, it’s hot to see him like that. But it’s impossible to take the time to truly appreciate it, because once Dark’s established his rhythm Anti starts moving with him, and then _you’re_ the one getting fucked out of your mind again as well.

You’re not going to last. And neither is Anti.

You arch up against him, knees bent up and back at his sides. You’d lock your legs around him if you could, but then that would get in Dark’s way. You wrap your arms around Anti’s shoulders instead, head tossed back and throat bared to Anti’s biting kisses.

Dark can’t kiss you in this position, but he takes one of your hands and grazes his lips against your knuckles instead, smiling at you, and it’s such a sweet and out of place gesture in the middle of a hardcore threesome that it leaves you more flustered than anything else he could have possibly done.

It’s enough of a distraction that Anti’s next thrust into you catches you off guard and you cry out, eyes rolling back.

There’s no escape from the pleasure. So good, but at the same time almost overwhelming, dragging you under. And if you think it’s enough to drive you out of your mind, Anti has it even worse. Thrusting forward and his cock is surrounded by your heat; pulling back and he impales himself even deeper on Dark’s hard length.

His expression says he’s loving it and hating it at the same time, voice glitching as he moans and mutters desperate, filthy curses. Barely holding it together.

His rhythm grows erratic, his grip on you tightening as his head lolls forward and he breaks. He bites down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, and the sudden shock of pain is enough to push you over the edge as well.

“Anti!” you scream, arching against him.

It’s already more intense than your first orgasm, pleasure wracking through you and leaving you trembling and lightheaded. Panting and moaning, clinging to Anti as your hips buck and you clench around him, milking his cock.

You don’t get any time to recover. Dark has a look in his eyes that’s—hungry. Possessive. More feral than anything you’ve seen from him so far, like he’s been trying to hold back this whole time and it’s finally slipping.

He shoves Anti aside and grips your thigh. “Stay,” Dark commands roughly – as if you have the mental capacity left to even think about moving. He’s only gone for a second, swapping the condom he was using on Anti for a clean one, and then he’s back on you. His touch is immediately demanding, spreading your legs and shoving them back until you squeak, almost bent in half.

Dark pins your wrists on either side of your head and shoves into you, and you moan in delight. You love anything they do to you, but there’s a particular thrill when it’s _rough_ like that.

He pauses, breathing heavily. He’s staring down at you with that dark look in his eyes, teeth grit. “Tell me,” he says, “if it’s too much.”

“It’s not, I love it. Please, Dark.”

“I want to claim you. I want to own you. I want you. To. Be. _Mine_.”

It’s almost a growl at the end. His words send a shiver through you, and you whimper needily.

He steadies himself, taking a long, deep breath. “I’ve already told you I can be… possessive. The more I care for you, the more I never want to let you go. It gets harder and harder to hold back.”

You can feel something tightening in your chest. It thrills you to the core to hear him talk like that, to know he _wants_ you.

“Then don’t,” you breathe.

Anti gives a quiet laugh from where he’s sprawled on the other side of the bed, happy to collapse in an exhausted, satisfied heap. “Careful what yer asking for, doll. Ye think I’m bad with a knife? You haven’t seen Dark when he gets in a _mood_.”

“What do you—" You don’t get a chance to finish the question, because Dark’s lips are on yours and your words are cut off into a moan. The kiss is immediately claiming, dominating.

You melt against him. Part your lips and let him ravage your mouth. Submit to him completely as he fucks into you.

And it’s not that it’s hard, or rough, strictly speaking. Though that too. God. Very much that. But there’s an intensity, his _control_ over you, something about the way you can’t resist him at all. Something about the way the room feels like it’s spinning around you, like it’s warping at the edges and darkening and—

That’s not just your imagination. There’s a shift, subtle but undeniable. Like Dark’s gone from being powerful but mostly human, to being a genuine demon and fuck. _Fuck_.

“You belong to me,” Dark says, and his voice reverberates with all the weight of the void behind it, his auras – usually so subtle – flaring out violently against the darkness gathering around him. And it’s terrifying, but incredible at the same time.

“Yes!”

“Every inch,” he groans, thrusting into you over and over and over, “every inch of your body is _mine_.”

Your voice cracks. “I’m y-yours.”

“And no one else can ever bring you the pleasure I can.”

If Anti has anything to say about that, his words are lost beneath the high-pitched ringing in your ears.

You’ve never felt more helpless in your life. Or more turned on. All you can do is surrender to him, completely and utterly, and there’s nothing you want to do more.

Submit to him. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? Your absolute submission.

God _._ He can have it.

“ _Master_ ,” you moan brokenly.

He leans down until his lips graze the shell of your ear. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “You’re mine. And I’m going to _fuck_ you until your cunt takes the shape of my cock.”

He spews his filth with such a silver tongue. You can only whine in response.

“You have no idea how much I want to fill you up and corrupt you from the inside.”

“Do it,” you beg. Apparently that’s enough to get Dark to slow for a moment, some of his intensity lessening. The intensity of the way he’s fucking you anyway. The look in his eyes as his stares down at you though—that makes your stomach flip.

“You… you can. If you want. It’s safe.” It’s incredibly hard to think. Dark’s still inside you; he’s stopped, buried deep, while you try to have half a discussion in the middle of all of _this_. His cock still grinds against your inner walls as you involuntarily tremble and clench around him, so needy and impossibly aroused, and it’s… fuck. What were you even trying to say?

“You—and Anti—you can’t carry diseases, right? So it’s only. Um. Not getting me knocked up that’s the issue. And believe me, that is _not_ something I want in my life right now. If there was any risk, I wouldn’t be taking it.”

“But, there isn’t…?” he prompts.

You shake your head. Something in you feels like it’s shattering at the thought alone. To be so filthily claimed like that— “Cum inside me! Please.”

Pure lust flares in his eyes. He pulls out and removes the condom; you’re too shaky to hold your original position, bent nearly in half, without Dark to support you there. You collapse down to the bed with a moan.

Dark allows it. He shifts you onto you side, kissing you firmly again as he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and sinks back into you.

The new position is a little less strain, and has Dark’s cock pounding into you at a new angle that makes your eyes roll back all over again. It also has the benefit of letting you turn your face into the covers to muffle your screams. Because there’s a lot of those.

Dark strokes his knuckles along you jaw, then his hand lowers to your throat. You gasp. His grip isn’t enough to choke you, but it’s—possessive, dangerous enough to send a helpless thrill through you.

Having him pin you down and wrap his hand around your neck while he fucking raws you, the weight of his sheer _power_ electrifying the air. Loving him. Submitting to him. He’s so possessive and demanding, and it’s everything you could have dreamed of in all your fantasies about fucking the darkest sides of them.

All you can do is beg for him – “Dark, Master, _please_ ” – as you feel the searing heat of you orgasm building rapidly. Your muscles tense and tremble, fingers clutching at the sheets, whole body slick with sweat.

Dark growls your name, abruptly stilling. He tenses and groans, eyes clenching shut, and you can feel his cock twitching inside you. Heat floods your face; knowing he’s spilling out into you, filling you up with his seed, and it’s—filthy. Hot. So used, so claimed, and that’s enough to break you.

You come, and it’s intense to the point of being overwhelming; _so_ good, but too much at the same time. You feel like you can’t even breathe, drowning in Dark’s presence, wracked with so much sensation. You cling desperately to him, needing him to ground you, but even that’s not enough to stop you whiting out for a moment.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mumble, voice wrecked and slurred.

The next thing you’re aware of is being held by both of them, trembling in their arms. Utterly spent and boneless, a fucked-out mess.

“You okay, doll?” Anti asks. He’s stroking soothing circles against your hip, while Dark holds one of your hands and rubs his thumb over your knuckles.

“Nn,” you agree.

Anti snorts lightly. “S’that a yes or a no?”

Dark brushes a strand of your sweat-soaked hair from where it’s sticking to your face. “I apologise, darling. I tried to warn you we could be… rough when our control slips.”

You have to giggle a little, if exhaustedly. He sounds honestly concerned, almost a touch remorseful, and it’s sweet. If unnecessary.

“I knew what I was getting into,” you remind him. “And that was amazing.”

“You don’t mind that—”

“I loved it, Master.”

The worry in his expression fades out, replaced by a flash of smug satisfaction at having you refer to him by that title.

As much as you enjoyed yourself, there’s no denying he pushed your limits. You’re still shaking a little, and you don’t think you’ll be able to move for a good while yet. You’re going to be so sore tomorrow.

You close your eyes and let your head rest limply against Dark’s shoulder, groaning. He’s murmuring something to you, vague reassurances, but your head is spinning too much to focus on something as mundane as words. The tone of his voice is enough, and the comfort of the arm draped over your waist.

Dark gives up talking directly to you after it becomes obvious you’re in no state to reply, and you instead hear him talking lowly to Anti over the top of you. Playfully snarking at each other, and occasionally taking turns to check in on you with a soft kiss or squeeze of your thigh.

“I want to claim you,” Dark says eventually; that’s the first thing that really stands out as being worth paying attention to through your daze.

You turn your face to bury against his chest, huffing a short, breathless laugh. “Think you already covered that.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Anti comments. At first you assume he just means the same as you did – that Dark well and truly fucked you. But then you realise he gesturing to something else. Your wrist, for example, and a particular spot on your hip.

You raise your arm slightly to look at it, blinking dumbly. Your mind still isn’t working fast enough to process what you see.

There are marks there. Like bruises, in the distinctive shape of handprints; Dark’s fingers around your wrists where he was pinning you down, and where he had been gripping your hips at certain points. But they’re too dark for bruises, almost pure black embedded beneath the surface of your skin. His darkness seeped into your veins, and your eyes widen.

“Oh,” you say.

Your stomach churns. It’s—it _is_ hot; you love being covered in their markings, in bruises and scratches and knife wounds. But this is something different. Something you don’t entirely understand. What even left a mark like _that?_ Dark’s power? The void-like shadows that surround him when he lets go? What happens if it’s _in you?_

“Those will fade,” Dark is quick to reassure you. “It won’t harm you. It is simply… a remnant. Nothing more severe than as if it were a bruise.”

“How,” you start, then have to swallow before you can continue your question, “how long will it last?”

“No more than an hour or two.”

“Okay.” You have to drag your eyes away from the markings, a little unsettled. You look up at Dark instead. Focus on him. He’s been so protective of you so far; he wouldn’t do anything to harm you. You trust him. “You said you wanted to… claim me?”

Dark nods and kisses your forehead. “Anti has left a permanent mark on you already.”

Your breath catches. “And you want to as well.”

He smiles. “How would you like a collar, love?” Dark purrs. He trails his fingers over your throat, and you shiver.

“I’ve noticed you tend to favour choker-style necklaces,” he continues. “I could create a collar for you in a similar style, the same way I created your mask; one that would bind you to me, while being subtle enough to not arouse suspicion in your everyday life. Unlike Anti, I do have some concept of discretion.”

“Oi,” Anti says. “It’s not like the scar’ll even be visible where it is. A collar will.”

“A collar doesn’t involve carving my name into her flesh.”

You laugh. “Oh, hush. You’re both right. And I… like the sound of a collar.”

Like it is an understatement. The idea thrills you; a symbol of _ownership_. Of how you belong to Dark. That he wants to keep you.

Dark sits up against the headrest of the bed and scoops you up into his lap. He lets you lean against him; when you start to shiver slightly, the sweat dried on your skin cooling you a little too much now the exertion is over, he pulls the covers up to wrap around your shoulders.

He’s so tender about it now, miles away from the way he was claiming your body. Almost. It’s tender, gentle touches as he grazes his fingers over your collarbones, around your neck, tilting your head back. But there’s still that look in his eyes, the one that says he owns you.

“Do you want this, darling?” he murmurs.

“Yes.”

“You won’t be able to take the collar off. Only I would be able to do that for you.”

You shoot him a smile, then lightly kiss his lips. “I don’t want it off. I want to know I belong to you, always.”

“You really are such a sweet little thing, aren’t you?”

The question is a rhetorical one. You don’t answer, only sigh and obligingly lift your chin to bare your throat for him. Dark kisses you there, and then you feel the soft, cold static of the darkness he commands as it wraps around your neck. The static sensation fades as it solidifies; you lift your fingers to touch the thin band that remains. It has the cool smoothness of metal, but the flexibility of leather, fit comfortably snug against your skin. There’s no clasp to it, no beginning and no end.

He holds you close once it’s done, stroking over where the collar meets your throat. Admiring his work; admiring you. “There. Now you have something to remember both of us by.”

You laugh lightly at that. “How could I ever forget? There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you.”

Anti’s grinning at you. “Yer fuckin’ adorable. An’ the collar looks good on you, guess I can admit that much.”

“As good as your name sliced into my skin?”

“Well. Ye know I’m biased for kinky knife shit.” He rolls over onto his stomach, regarding you with those amused, luridly green eyes. “This is cute an’ all, but I got just one question. How come _he_ gets to fill ye up with spunk and I don’t?”

You sputter abruptly, the question taking you off guard. As well as being somewhat embarrassing, now you’re not caught in the heat of the moment.

“Anti, don’t be crude,” Dark says.

Anti snorts. “Like you can talk! I’m right fuckin’ here, I _heard_ that shit ye were sayin’ to her.”

“Um. Because Dark asked, I guess?” you suggest, to answer Anti’s actual question. “You could too. If you wanted.” You can feel your face heating up at the offer you’re making.

Anti’s eyes light up, his grin widening, and Dark immediately cuts in. “Not now. She’s already had enough for one night.”

“Why don’t ye ask her that?”

“No, Anti.”

“Don’t be an overprotective ass!”

“Don’t think with your dick all the time.”

“Again. Pot fuckin’ kettle.”

You giggle. “I feel a lot better,” you say.

“See?”

Dark growls, but it’s not exactly angry. More… predatory. “If you really want to get laid again that badly, I’m sure we could arrange something.”

Anti barks a laugh. “I can fuck wit’ ye any time, I wanna make the most of our time with—”

The remainder of the sentence is cut off as Dark lunges for him and knocks Anti onto his back, pinning him to the bed. Anti’s not having any of it; his eyes narrow, even as his smile widens into something feral and elated, and he pushes back until he has his legs wrapped around Dark and levers them to flip their positions.

Oh. Okay. That’s how it’s gonna be. You bite your lip, burying your chin in the covers to hide your little grin of delight.

Watching them is always so fascinating. Hypnotising. The power and grace, the way they can just casually lift and throw each other. It’s more restricted this time; they don’t exactly have a whole ballroom for playfighting, only wrestling on the bed with its very limited space. You have to abruptly shift out of the way with a little squeak of alarm or risk getting pinned yourself.

But it’s _fun_. Sometimes they’ll pause to kiss, or the touches involve far more groping than strictly necessary. They’re snarky and antagonistic and they make it work.

Dark gets Anti pinned firmly on his stomach, having to use almost his full body weight just to keep him there. You pass Dark a condom when he gestures for one, and the lube from where it had been tossed aside amongst the sheets. He penetrates Anti just like that and Anti hisses.

You find yourself squirming, but you can’t look away. You didn’t exactly get the chance to appreciate it before, but—the powerful snap of Dark’s hips, the tightness of his grip, the expression of utter satisfaction. God, he’s hot.

Of course, Anti’s not one to ever lie back and just take it, even if he’s enjoying himself too. Bucking his hips back against Dark and making Dark groan by – you can only assume from his muttered curses – clenching down tight around him. He wriggles free and flips them, pinning Dark onto his back with Anti’s knees holding Dark’s hips down.

Anti makes a sound somewhere between a glitching little cackle of triumph and a moan as he sinks back down and starts to ride Dark hard.

Dark attempts to shove him off again and Anti grunts. “Doll, get over here.”

“Nn?” you ask, much too caught up in the show to understand why.

Anti’s grin is fucked-out and feral. He has to grab Dark’s shoulders and push him back into the bed to stop Dark trying to regain control, growling. “Sit on his face. That’ll keep him down.”

“Anti!”

“C’mon. I’m serious.”

You’re—fuck. They’re already thoroughly worked you over, and even if you’ve had enough time to recover somewhat, you’ll only end up even more exhausted and sore tomorrow if you let them rope you into anything else.

That’s what the sensible part of your mind tells you. The part that’s getting turned on again just from watching them and shivering with lust at the thought very much wants in.

You let the covers drop from your shoulders and crawl over; Anti beams at you, while Dark raises an eyebrow.

“You don’t, um. Mind?”

“Do it,” Anti encourages, utterly delighted. “After the way he was fuckin’ ye before, a li’l turnabout’s only fair.”

Dark shoots a glare at Anti. “I am happy to pleasure you, darling. But not because of this brat and his insolent intentions.”

“Insolent my fuckin’ ass,” Anti whoops, then groans as Dark thrusts up particularly hard into him in retribution.

You giggle, then yelp as Dark grips your thighs and pulls you over to straddle his face. For a moment you feel self-conscious about the position; then Dark’s tongue hungrily finds your core and you forget everything else.

You ride Dark’s face while Anti rides his cock, losing yourself in the pleasure. Anti wraps an arm around your waist and leans you back, turning your head so he can thoroughly make out with you at the same time.

Anti doesn’t stop until Dark comes. As soon as he’s finished with Dark, Anti lays you down on the bed and has his turn with you too.

For all his flippancy and seeming carelessness, he’s mindful of not pushing you too hard. He takes it slow, the smooth, steady slide of his cock inside you enough to have you breathless and moaning for him even without his usual roughness.

He gets his turn to come inside you too.

But Dark’s possessive, and hard again – goddamn demon stamina, they’re going to be the death of you one day. In the best way. He can’t let Anti have the last say; Anti had you all to himself last night, and now it’s Dark’s turn. He pulls you into his lap, your back against his chest.

You’re too exhausted to ride him, but it still feels good. To lay limply against him as he gently uses you, moaning so prettily for him. The way he litters tender kisses all over you as he manipulates your body like a rag doll.

It makes you feel so deliciously floaty; maybe a little dissociated, but that’s alright, because it’s only in the most heady and most pleasurable way imaginable, but without the almost overwhelming intensity of before. Although that was fun too.

Dark forces another orgasm out of you by the time he’s done, and you end up a breathless, trembling wreck slumped against him. He pulls out, and you can feel the warm gush of his seed leaking out of you. Maybe Anti’s too. That’s three times they’ve come into you and, _god_. You’re so full of them, so filthy. So theirs, their little toy to use and pump full of their cum.

The thought makes you squirm.

But once it’s over, they’re so sweet to you again. If a little amused at how damn out of it you are. Dark chuckles as he lifts you up – there is no way you’re walking – and carries you to the bathroom. As much as you’d be happy to just pass out in their arms, Dark’s right when he says they need to clean you up first.

He draws you a bath this time – again, standing isn’t going to happen – and you spend most of it nuzzled against Dark’s chest. He talks to you; praises you for being so good for them, and keeps checking you’re okay. You can only reply in vague murmurs and the occasional yawn. Fucked out and exhausted, the deepest satisfaction that leaves your whole body feeling utterly boneless. Warm and comfortable and you really are going to pass out in his arms soon.

Once he deems you clean enough, Dark wraps you in a towel and dries you off. Anti has your pyjamas ready when you get back to the bedroom.

“Seriously, doll, you okay? You’re still kind of out of it,” he asks as he helps you pull them on, already in a pair of sleep pants himself.

“I’m dead,” you mumble. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Anti snorts. “God, yer adorable.”

“I don’t think anywhere with us could be considered heaven,” Dark comments. “We’re rather the opposite of angels.”

“If this is hell, I never want to leave.”

Dark kisses you, admirably holding back a laugh. “You’re sweet, but you should rest now.”

“Do ye need anything? Water, something to eat?”

You might need some painkillers for tomorrow, but your brain still feels a little too sluggish to ask for that. You shake your head; Dark fetches you a glass of water anyway, for later even if you don’t feel like drinking now.

“I apologise, dear,” Dark says again. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have played so hard.”

“I’m not that goddamn breakable,” you insist. “I can handle it. Just tired out now.”

“Clearly,” is Dark’s wry response.

You bury your face into the crook of his neck as he lays you down and then joins you in bed, spooning against you. “I feel like you’re mocking me.”

“I would never.”

Anti laughs, curling up behind you from the other side of the bed and pressing kisses against the back of your neck. “S’just that we don’t see ye that often. So, when we do, we can get. A little overzealous.”

You huff a laugh. “I noticed.” Not that you mind, really. “So, the solution here is obviously you need to see me and fuck me on a more regular basis, so it doesn’t get all pent up.”

“Ha. I like the way you think, doll.”

Anti’s just joking around, teasing as always, but Dark seems to grow oddly serious about it. “Would you want to see us more often?”

“God, _yes_.”

“Would the appeal and the novelty not wear off?”

“Wha—?” For the first time, you regret being too blissed out and exhausted to think, because that seems. Important. Why would Dark even ask a thing like that? “I’m yours. Of course I want to be with you.”

“We’d interfere with your life.”

“You make my life _better_.”

Dark hesitates, seeming to weigh what he wants to say next. He cards his fingers through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp. “I think. You may make our lives better too.”

You don’t have any reply to that, but it makes you feel like you’re glowing. Your fingers drift to the collar around your throat, and you tilt your head up to kiss Dark. “I’m yours,” you murmur again.

Anti coughs behind you.

“Yours plural. I meant you too.”

“Damn right,” he says, making a pointed gesture of brushing his fingers over the small of your back, over the knife marks still left there. You shiver a little.

You’re too exhausted to continue the conversation. Talking about seeing them again, more often – you want that. How often is often? More regularly than once every almost four months, like this gap was since you saw them last. Every two months, one month? Weekends? Maybe it’s harder for them to find the time to join you together; would they come and see you more often if it was individually sometimes?

You have no idea. You don’t even know what other commitments they have to deal with.

Maybe tomorrow you can figure something out. When the next time you’ll be able to get together will be, at least. In the morning—

Will they still be here in the morning? The thought strikes you and make your stomach twist; that first night, they’d had other business to attend to and had to leave before you woke. You don’t want to let them go like that just yet, but you’re too exhausted to even ask. You’re already dozing, and you can’t force yourself awake enough to say the words.

You just have to trust them.

You can hear the quiet murmur of their voices, reassuring even if you can’t make out the words anymore, as you let sleep claim you.

And you sleep _deeply_. Last night was bad enough, but two nights of being thoroughly fucked in a row has you knocked out cold. You’ve had more sex in the past forty-eight hours than the entire rest of the year combined.

You don’t dream. You don’t stir at all.

The next thing you’re aware of is a hand on your shoulder, and Dark’s voice murmuring your name.

You groan. You still feel like you could sleep for another day.

“Sorry to wake you, darling. There’s only one hour until check out.”

It takes a moment for your brain to stir enough to process that, but once Dark’s words sink in you immediately sit up. And regret it – sudden movement was not a good idea.

“ _Ow_ ,” you gasp. You were so right about the painkillers. Everything aches, and you feel like you’ve strained muscles you didn’t even know you had. You flop back down into bed and wrap your arms around the pillow. “Fuck.”

“Is it sore?”

“Little bit,” you mumble.

“I can call reception and arrange for a later check out time.”

“No… no. Damnit. I have to catch my coach home.” You bury your head and groan again. Sitting on a coach for hours is not going to be comfortable. Worth it, though.

Dark places his hands on your shoulders and rubs them, and the gentle massage is nice enough you find yourself melting into the touch.

“It’s quite conflicting,” he says lowly. “I want to protect you from everyone else. And yet I rather enjoy seeing you like this, knowing it’s because of what I did. Only _I_ get to break you.”

His tone is quiet and conversational, but there’s a far darker current beneath it. It makes your breath catch.

You probably shouldn’t be anywhere near as okay with that statement as you are, but—there’s certain risks that come with dating demons, and you knew it from the start. It’s always been part of the thrill. And you can’t lie, as much as your body aches now, that masochistic side of you is loving the pain, and loving that they’ve left their mark on you like that.

“As long as you put me back together afterwards,” you say.

Dark smiles and kisses your shoulder blade. “I can agree to that.”

As much as you would love to stay in bed for another short eternity, you know you don’t have the time to laze around. Dark is very helpful, at least. He fetches you a glass of water to down, and Anti reappears shortly afterwards with food. A plateful of scrambled eggs and bacon; including about six extra strips of bacon that he takes for himself and casually chews on while wandering around the room helping Dark pack your things for you.

“Don’t you dare get bacon grease on my ballgown,” you warn him, waving your fork in a vaguely threatening manner in his general direction.

Anti snorts. “Some thanks that is, I got ye breakfast.”

“You could just not be animal and stop eating with your hands,” Dark suggests, to Anti’s mock indignation.

Anti leaves the packing though, and when you mildly ask if they have any painkillers, Dark and Anti share a look and Anti immediately vanishes to get some. Literally vanishes, glitching into the void. He returns just as quickly, with a large pack of pills he drops into your hands.

You blink, then your eyes narrow. “Did you steal these?”

“Unimportant. You need ‘em, right?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “One day they’ll have you done for murder, torture, and petty thievery.”

“I’d like to fuckin’ see them try,” he says with an utterly terrifying grin. A terrifying grin that he presses to your lips, and you’re all too willing to kiss him back despite his questionable behaviour.

You take the painkillers.

Dark and Anti are already fully dressed and entirely ready to face the day, while your morning is a mess of scrambling to get ready in time. You feel far better with food and drink and painkillers in you, and finally manage to drag yourself out of bed to use the bathroom, sort out the mess of your sex-mussed hair, and splash some water on your face.

Dark was right about the marks he left, those weird black handprints. There’s no indication they were ever there. Their other marks though—you still have all of the little knife scratches from Anti, not to mention his name carved into the small of your back, countless little bruises and lovebites, and, of course, the collar Dark put on you last night.

You run your finger over it. Looking in the mirror is the first time you’ve actually seen it; it’s black as midnight, but somehow ever so slightly iridescent. The most minute hint of deep red and blue hues buried within that are revealed when it catches the light.

It’s gorgeous.

Being marked up like that, visibly claimed and _wanted_ , makes you feel gorgeous too. You wear all of it with pride.

The only downside to the morning is how little time you have to appreciate it. You get dressed and shove your pyjamas into your bag, the last of the packing that needed to be done, and then it’s almost immediately after that you need to leave the room. You just wish you had more time to spend with Dark and Anti, somewhere private.

Not that the lack of privacy seems to bother Anti; they walk you down to the lobby, and once there Anti pulls you roughly against him and kisses you firmly. With tongue. For several minutes.

Dark’s finished checking out before Anti’s done, and he interrupts you with a cough.

You’re out of breath and flustered, but incredibly flattered at the same time. Even if you were probably making a scene in public.

“When do you need to leave for your coach?” Dark asks smoothly.

“Pretty much now,” you admit reluctantly. God. You don’t want to leave them.

“Then we shouldn’t keep you.”

He’s right and you hate it.

Dark doesn’t kiss you the way Anti did; he actually has some sense of decorum. He only takes your hand in one of his own, and the other he rests on your waist, holding you in a loose embrace. The gesture may be simply affectionate, but the intensity of the look in his eyes leaves you just as breathless as Anti did.

“Don’t be sad to say goodbye.”

“But I’m going to miss you both, so much.”

“You’re ours now, officially.” Dark grazes his fingers over your collar, then hooks one beneath it and tugs lightly to draw you in closer. “It won’t be so long before we see you again. And anything you need in the meantime, don’t hesitate to contact us.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, and Dark smirks.

He doesn’t kiss you the way Anti did. Dark’s kiss is far more brief, not as deep, and to anyone looking from the outside it probably looks just like the socially acceptable level of a tender, romantic kiss. But there’s a heat in it that makes your knees feel weak, the subtle possessiveness of the way Dark holds you.

“Don’t make yourself late,” Dark reminds you, and you sigh. You should go.

“Trust me, we ain’t gonna be leaving you alone for long after _that_ ,” Anti cuts in, a suggestive grin on his face. “Yer too much fun to keep our hands off.”

You laugh. Anti’s reasoning may be somewhat more risqué, but it is reassuring at the same time.

“I’ll look forward to it,” you say, grinning in return. You hesitate for a moment, but. Fuck it. You already admitted it yesterday, in far more vulnerable circumstances. “I love you both. Don’t keep me waiting too long, alright?”

Maybe that’s too forward; who are you to be making demands of _them?_  But neither of them seem offended.

Dark chuckles. “We wouldn’t dream of it,” he says smoothly, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles. Again, a seemingly simple gesture of affection. But your mind immediately and intensely remembers how he did the same in the middle of your threesome last night, and you feel heat rushing to your face. Trust him to be able make you so incredibly flustered over the smallest thing.

Anti cackles at your reaction and ruffles your hair. “See ya later, doll.”

You nod, then, before your resolve can fail and you give in to the urge to screw going home and just stay with them, you pick up your bags and turn away. The bus stop is outside and around the corner, on the side of the hotel you left from when going to the restaurant when you’d first arrived.

You get as far as the sliding glass doors of the lobby before giving in to the temptation to look back over your shoulder.

Dark and Anti are already gone.

**Author's Note:**

> THE SPOILERY NOTES (apparently the end notes apply to all chapters akfhsjahsaj I can't get rid of these for the second chapter sorry)
> 
> Feel free to skip these notes if you've already read the fic; this is just the outline of all the kinks that come up and/or are discussed in the fic for anyone who would prefer to know what to expect before reading.
> 
> Kinks that are relevant/actually occur:
> 
> \- Protagonist is submissive and somewhat masochistic in this fic and will be throughout. (Not to a huge degree on the masochism, they just find a little bit of pain to be fun. They probably wouldn’t go too much heavier on the pain scale than what occurs in this knifeplay scene.)  
> \- Knifeplay. Mostly just shallow cuts, Anti also carves his name into the protagonist’s back a bit deeper, possibly enough to scar (they agree to that and enthusiastically ask him to do it).  
> \- Bloodplay. Anti likes to make the protagonist bleed and lick up some of the blood from the cuts he’s left. The protagonist is actually worse for this one; they’re hella into Anti’s neck wound and lick and play with that on two separate occasions.  
> \- Bondage. Protagonist has their wrists tied up to the headboard with rope during part of the knifeplay scene.  
> \- Not a kink, but possibly worth noting in case it bothers anyone; Anti is a little bit yandere and mildly threatens to murder the protagonist at one point because he actually kinda likes them and How Dare They Make Him Feel Emotions lol.  
> \- NOTE: the protagonist does safeword during the knifeplay scene (yellow, just to take a quick breather) because of feeling lightheaded/a little overwhelmed at one point. They end up sort of non-verbal at the end, but in a too-blissed-out-to-speak kind of way.
> 
> Kinks that are mentioned during the negotiation conversation:
> 
> \- The specific scenario of being tied up and spanked comes up.  
> \- Bondage. Protagonist is fine with any kind, expresses preference for wrists tied to headboard (which then plays into the actual scene) and notes they have kinda shitty circulation and can’t kneel for too long without getting pins and needles so that’s something for the boys to watch out for. Have tried a little bit of self-bondage before using rope. (Unnecessary amounts of detail? Yes. But I’ve stopped trying to make protagonist too generic and now we have these random little extra details to flesh out the character, so. Heh.)  
> \- Impact play (covering spanking, paddles, canes, riding crops, floggers, etc.) Protagonist is interested and willing to try, but asks for a soft limit/go slow on any of the harder stuff like canes.  
> \- D/s dynamic. Already mentioned the protagonist is submissive (at least as far as Dark and Anti are concerned); titles are specifically brought up in this conversation. They’d be happy to call Dark sir or master.  
> \- Marking (bruises, hickeys, scratches, etc.) Protagonist is _very_ enthusiastic about.  
> \- Being treated roughly/manhandled. Also very enthusiastic; there’s a (mostly) non-sexual scene from earlier in the fic where they’re playfighting a little and having a lot of fun with that.  
> \- Knifeplay. Obviously they want that, since it’s the main part of the scene, but expresses a hard limit on any actual serious bodily harm, and asks to keep those marks to somewhere easier to cover up.  
> \- Needles are a Do Not Want, protagonist is squicked by those.  
> \- Verbal degradation. Protagonist enjoys dirty talk, but prefers it in more of a praising way rather than being humiliated too harshly.  
> \- Other things that are mentioned, without specific detail but the implication the protagonist would be into/at least willing to try; blindfolds, gags, collars, sensory deprivation, temperature play, overstimulation, orgasm denial, sex toys.  
> \- Aftercare is non-specific (protagonist mentions they’ve not really done intense scenes requiring it before), but just being held and looked after afterwards.  
> \- Protagonist’s sexual history is vaguely mentioned as that they’ve never _actually_ been in the sort of relationship or situation where negotiation, safewords, etc. would be required, but they do very much know they have a predilection for some kinky shit. They’ve researched enough to be familiar with it and comfortable with getting into that.
> 
> …
> 
> This is. One of the fluffiest and relatively healthiest kink things I’ve written, I don’t know why I decided _this_ one needed over 1,200 words of author’s notes alone just to explain the protagonist’s view on each individual kink. >>;; Yeesh.


End file.
